


It Was A Graveyard Smash

by Queenspuppet



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Apple Pie, Candy Trade Negotiations, College AU, Costume Role Playing Sex, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Halloween and Fall Themed Tropes, Haunted House, Multi, Ouija Board, Post-Apocalyptic Love Story, Pumpkin Spice Lattes, Pumpkin carving, Smut, Spooky, Succubus, Time Travel, Werewolf Lore, Witch AU, Zombies, ghost au, halloween decorations, no powers au, non-canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 01:25:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 36,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12570588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenspuppet/pseuds/Queenspuppet
Summary: A collection of short Halloween fics from prompts I wrote and offered up on Tumblr. Some silly, some sexy, some spooky! See chapter titles for ratings and pairings.





	1. 1. Wintershock - G for ibelieveinturtles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SerialObsessor (ibelieveinturtles)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibelieveinturtles/gifts), [georgiagirlagain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/georgiagirlagain/gifts), [Hollyspacey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hollyspacey/gifts), [bloomsoftly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloomsoftly/gifts), [bval_1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bval_1/gifts), [Zephrbabe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zephrbabe/gifts), [Dresupi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dresupi/gifts), [phoenix_173](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenix_173/gifts), [paranoidwino (Wino)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wino/gifts), [cutie_bug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutie_bug/gifts), [sachertortes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sachertortes/gifts), [GlynnisIsta8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlynnisIsta8/gifts), [uconnhuskiesfan_wintershockship](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uconnhuskiesfan_wintershockship/gifts), [JanetSnakehole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanetSnakehole/gifts).



1\. “You know, like a murder of crows, a gaggle of geese, a coven of witches!”

“That’s …not really how it works. But, sure.” 

(This prompt ended up a Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater inspired high-school/witch au)

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

“You know, like a murder of crows, a gaggle of geese, a coven of witches!” Bucky Barnes was looking earnestly up at her from the booth and Sam and Steve were sniggering across from him. Darcy looked around the soda shop, she had three more tables to take care of on this round and she just couldn’t get these Avengers Academy boys to give her break.

 

“That’s… not really how it works. But, sure,” Darcy said, shrugging. “What do you want to eat?”

 

“Four orders of cheese fries, six double cheese burgers, three double chocolate malts,” Sam recited.

 

Darcy blinked and clicked at her pen repeatedly. “Okay…and for you?” she asked Steve.

 

He blushed profusely, red flooding his pale skin and Sam answered for him, “That was for all of us.”

 

“Great,” Darcy said, without any enthusiasm and turned to move on.

 

“Aren’t you gonna write that down?” Sam asked.

 

“Do you read palms?” Bucky asked stretching out his hand to wave it in her face.

 

“No,” Darcy answered, figuring that covered the bases, and walked away.

 

It was bad enough around town when it was just locals. But when the Avengers Academy students arrived back on campus and flooded the streets with their high end cars and the shops with their limitless credit cards, Darcy had a hard time stomaching coming into work at the old soda shop turned kitschy diner. And this particular group of Avengers boys had been a regular thorn in her side at the diner since they’d first walked in last fall. Sam Wilson’s eyes were going to end up loose in his head for how often he rolled them, Steve Rogers was somehow worse for being both a local and an Avengers boy, and Bucky Barnes…

 

Bucky Barnes was persistent. Charming. Chatty. And evidently fascinated by Darcy and her family full of witches.

 

She avoided their table beyond delivering the tray of food, ignoring Bucky’s parted lips, poised for speaking. She even skipped the mandatory, ‘How is everything?’ swing by.

 

The tip was hefty all the same and Darcy wrinkled her nose irritably in thanks.

 

_

 

Maria appeared in Darcy’s doorway, willowy form soft against the frame, face stony and suspicious.

 

“There are boys waiting for you downstairs,” she said slowly, with that careful enunciation that always meant she was near to listing your errors and follies out very publicly.

 

“I didn’t _invite_ them,” Darcy said, squeezing past Maria. She thundered down the steps as the older woman watched from the upstairs hall.

 

Darcy recognized the navy and black uniform pants before she saw their faces and nearly turned tail on the stairs then. Steve Rogers, svelte and sickly, was leaning slightly away from the venus fly trap on the side table by the entrance. Sam Wilson leaned back against the door itself as if to bar anyone else from entering the house, his uniform half abandoned, gray shirtsleeves rolled up. Bucky Barnes was the bravest, advancing past the unwelcoming welcome rug that was more shades of dirt than colors of wool, and peering into the living room cum study cum entertaining room where Darcy’s mother and aunts and cousins and extended female family hosted their paying customers.

 

“What are you doing here?” Darcy asked, three steps up from the entry hall so she could hold some height over the collection of boys.

 

Steve shrunk back closer to Sam who folded his arms over his chest and smirked up at Darcy. Bucky turned and walked up to the stairs without any reserve.

 

“I realized my mistake at the diner,” he said, hands in his pockets. “A coven is not a numerical measurement but a chosen community. I’m sorry for the insensitive error.”

 

Darcy’s frowned deepened even as Bucky offered her up a sheepish smile, perfectly tailored for winning over it’s recipient.“Fine,” Darcy said, shrugging and turning to leave again.

 

“It’s just,” Bucky carried on, and out of the corner of her eye Darcy could see his hand, stretched out for her perusal. “I’m having these terrible dreams. And I thought someone here might be able to help me.”

 

She stopped, turned back to him, lips pursing, and studied him for a long minute.

 

It took her a second to move past the carefully trimmed poof of hair, half windswept and half architecturally perfect, the chiseled jaw line, the softly gleaming silk tie around his throat. His eyes were tired, dark circles pooling under their lively blue gray. His lips were snagged and bitten with worry and he hadn’t quite managed to shave away all of the spotty, youthful beard that was working it’s way in on his face. Over his shoulder, Steve and Sam were both stepping closer, Steve’s face openly worried and Sam’s stubbornly guarded.

 

Darcy huffed, making sure to sound put upon, and stepped down once to look at the offered palm. There at the center Bucky Barnes’s life line was snapped clean in half, a sudden and jarring break in the otherwise predictable pattern of wealth and privilege she might have expected to see.

 

“Darcy?”

 

Darcy looked up to see her mother standing in the doorway, wiping her hands off on a kitchen towel. There was a dangerous combination of fragrances in the air which meant that the older woman had been brewing a tea although whether it was medicinal, psychedelic, or only herbal, only a test would tell.

 

“Bucky, this is my mother, Peggy Carter,” Darcy said. She met her mother’s gaze, a queasy nervous feeling spreading through her stomach that she patently refused to acknowledge. “He needs to speak with you.”

 

Peggy’s eyes widened slightly, taking in the Avenger’s uniforms and the anxious expressions on all four teenager’s faces.

 

“Well, alright then,” Peggy said, red lips pursing. “Who would like tea?”

 

Darcy shook her head subtly, warningly at the others, and followed them into the kitchen.


	2. 2. Tasergazer - T for georgiagirlagain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2\. ‘Wait…if you’re making pancakes…whose footsteps am I hearing upstairs?’ for georgiagirlagain.  
> Darcy/Heimdall

The house had looked sweet when they’d found it and Heimdall had been tolerant of the candy colors that decorated the old painted lady trimmings along the roof and around the deck. They thought it’d been empty and on the market because of the cost of fixing up a house in the historic district.

 

Or at least, Darcy had thought that.

 

Heimdall had probably seen them peering out of windows, watching from corners. But he kept that thing sort of close to his chest. Ghosts were his business. History was hers.

 

_

 

The first time had been at breakfast, the morning after their boxes were moved in and they’d christened the staircase on the way to the bed. (And then the bed after a short rest.)

 

She’d been lining her shelves in the library with books- the murder mysteries, the non-fiction, the erotic romances that her husband read to her in his deep, rich notes until she lost her patience for listening. Heavy thunking steps paced the hallway above her head which meant that either Heimdall had lost something (like his natural sense of grace) or…

 

She stuck her head out of the door, grimaced at the shocking mustard colored embossed leather wallpaper in the hall (she hadn’t made her mind up about all the leather on the walls yet) and smelled butter frying. She padded across the worn floorboards to the kitchen to find Heimdall at the stove, naked back flexing as he flipped a pancake into the air with a little flourish.

 

“Wait…if you’re making pancakes…whose footsteps am I hearing upstairs?” she asked. Which was silly. She already knew the answer.

 

Heimdall looked up at the ceiling for a long moment. “They’re all right,” he assured her.

 

“Dolly,” she said with a sigh and he looked over his shoulder at her, arching a brow.

 

“You said you wanted an old house,” he said.

 

And he had warned her. He could see ghosts, ghosts could see him, and generally they were a lot more vocal around him. It was a thing. A thing she had signed up for.

 

“I love this house,” she said, as firm and stubborn as the pacing steps that rattled the lamp hanging above them.

 

_

 

It was okay though. Feathers were ruffled in the first week and two cheap vases were broken in the wake of negotiations with the residents of the house.

 

Darcy and Heimdall saved sharing showers for the dead of night when the prankster was less likely to flash freeze them by a sudden change of temperature in the water.

 

Darcy’s alphabetization of her library was a lost cause too.

 

_

 

She mowing the lawn while Heimdall tinkered with his old junker truck. She turned a corner and discovered a man in the garage with her husband.

 

“Dolly, there’s-”

 

“We are running _late_ ,” the man said, straw hat tipping on his head, white summer suit fluttering in a breeze that the painfully hot summer day was lacking.

 

“We’ve got plenty of time,” Heimdall muttered, drawing his fingers back from the engine with a hiss. “Don’t mess with the alternator, please.”

 

Darcy blinked and the man in the white suit - whose eyes were foggy and smudged and whose edges were melting away into the background - took a long drag from a cigarette, before pursing his lips to blow out invisible smoke.

 

She went back to pushing the mower across the tall grass.

 

_

 

She was carrying a basket of laundry in her arms, down the basement stairs, when the door slammed shut behind her and the lock clicked.

 

“Dolly!” she shouted. “HEIMDALL!”

 

The air nipped at her cheeks, turning frigid around her in a quick burst of cold.

 

She plopped her butt right down onto the step beneath her, squeezing her arms around her basket and bracing her heels on the step as she listened to footsteps thundering above her. There was a hissing from below, an angry type of slithering, agitated flicks and whips and Darcy tried to muffle the shriek that burst forth as something cold and brittle wrapped around her ankle.

 

“Darcy!” she heard from the kitchen. The doorknob rattled loudly behind her, and something from below seemed to chuckle in time.

 

“I am not alone, babe!!” Darcy said, kicking her leg and trying to shake off whatever had her in its grip.

 

There were three hard cracks against the door and Darcy screamed as she was dragged down one step and then another, her tailbone hitting hard against the wood.

 

Her breaths hiccuped in her chest as the door swung open, hitting the stairwell wall with a bang and spilling light down onto the bone white face staring up at Darcy, eyes black hollows and mouth a dark, open smear. The body was twisting and churning, spilling down the steps like an oil slick over the back of some kind of warping, morphing beast.

 

Dark arms, twined with gold light, wrapped underneath her armpits and around her chest, yanking her back with a sharp tug. Darcy’s ankle popped and the laundry went tumbling down the stairs as the phantom growled and snarled, snaking back into the dark shadows of the deep basement.

 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Heimdall breathed as he scooped her up and dashed them both up into the shining sunlight of the kitchen.

 

“Get me out, get me out,” she chanted, ignoring the throb of her ankle, the red finger marks that were darkening to purple, skin swelling up around.

 

“I didn’t realize that was there,” Heimdall assured her, as he carried her out to the backyard.

 

Darcy twisted in his hold and clung to his shoulders for the long minutes it took for her heart to slow its racing rhythm. He dropped to the deck steps with a deep whoosh of breath.

 

“I will do the laundry while we live here,” he said, tone almost reasonable if she hadn’t seen the wide whites of his eyes looking dazedly out at the tidy yard.

 

“I like this house,” Darcy said, still stubborn. “But I would like it better without that particular resident.”

 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Heimdall said, nodding for a long time. He pressed his lips to her forehead and they sat together outside for another hour.

 

 


	3. 3. Taserbones - E for anon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3\. 'You want to take me to a cabin in the woods…on Halloween weekend? I have concerns.’ For anonymous  
> Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow  
> This is nsfw!

“You want to take me to a cabin in the woods…on Halloween weekend? I have concerns.”

 

Yeah, except Brock didn't really look concerned. He looked horny. And Darcy could say with reasonable certainty that Brock Rumlow walked around all day half-hard. At least, that had been her impression ever since he’d broken her dry-spell almost four months ago at the Fourth of July company picnic. Utterly laid waste to the year and change of no sex by taking her up against a nice smooth birch tree, with his hand over her mouth and her panties shoved to the side. They’d christened every supply closet, every stairwell, and more than their fair share of cubicles and and offices on nights when Darcy ‘worked late’ and Brock volunteered to stay on for security. And then when the office got old and her car wouldn't start on a Friday night, he'd given her a ride home and they’d destroyed her apartment over the course of the weekend.

 

She’d probably be bow-legged except he had a thing for variety in their sexual habits and a talent for surprising her with her own flexibility.

 

“Yeah well, there’s no cell service and no internet,” she said. “So you would be at my mercy.”

 

He grinned and it was feral.

 

He really was a terrible asshole. He got into her business. Made possessive comments. Insulted her office friends behind their backs. But they weren't dating. Not really. So she was still in control of her own decisions. The man was crap, but Christ did he feel good inside of her.

 

“Sounds boring,” he said. He ticked an eyebrow up. “What are we supposed to do out there?”

 

 

_

 

 

“Give me a thirty second head start,” she said.

 

She was already bending her knees, getting ready to bolt into the hills.

 

Brock snorted and shook his head. “Thirty seconds? Seriously? You asked me to _chase_ you.”

 

“I know the property better than you,” she said. Thirty seconds would be enough. She wanted him to _catch_ her. And he didn't know she used to run cross country.

 

“Whatcha got on under that skirt?” He asked.

 

She grinned. He was eyeing her bare legs. It was too cold for what she was wearing. But she'd be running. And then they’d be heating up between them. She lifted the skirt up off her knees, and then higher, until she saw his eyes darken at the bare pink flesh between her thighs.

 

“It’s a full moon tonight,” she said. “So don't forget to howl.”

 

And she started running.

 

He was laughing behind her, barking really. She'd picked this game for a reason after all.

 

She jumped off the trail and across the little stream that ran down the property and out from the caves. Briars caught at her skirt and her boots slid through wet leaves. She darted up the hill side. She had somewhere in mind, a bed of moss above a little cave outcropping, soft enough for Brock to lose control without scrapping her up.

 

She heard branches cracking behind her. That couldn't have been thirty seconds. Could it? Did it matter? She knew Brock was absolutely capable of cheating at their games.

 

A howl rang out, echoing around the hollow and running cold shivers down her spine. But she felt the hot pool grow in her belly and tears of arousal slicking at her thighs.

 

“I can hear you gasping,” he called. His voice was hoarse and Darcy wondered how he was running with that hard on he had to be sporting. “You gonna gasp like that for me when I catch you? When I've got your hands pinned and I’m fucking you so hard you can't catch your breath?”

 

“No neighbors out here,” she said, panting. She could see the outcropping and she dodged a low branch and headed left, up the back of the arch of rock.

 

Branches snapped behind her and a low, rolling laugh crawled up from the valley and left her throbbing. He was closer. Closer than she thought he'd get before she cornered herself on top of the little cave.

 

“So you better have me screaming,” she said, then she kicked at a fallen tree so that it rolled down the hill in his direction.

 

He’d be fine. He could handle himself.

 

And she liked the growl that followed behind.

 

Even with the obstacle, Brock caught her at the base of rise she’d been aiming for. She’d heard his feet stomping through the leaves and the underbrush, felt his fingernails skim at her back, but she still squealed as one arm, tense like iron, wrapped around her waist and hauled her back against his chest. He bounced her up, held her so tight her ribs ached, and then his free hand was under her skirt. He pinched at her inner thigh, laughing at her whimper.

 

She arched and cried out as two fingers pressed up inside of her, deep and sudden with a sharp twist of his wrist.

 

“Oh fuck, ahhh!” Her voice was high with shock and his teeth sank hard into the curve of her shoulder as she squirmed in his hold, trying to pull away from the quick snap of his fingers pumping into her, trying to work herself down onto his hand.

 

“The hill,” she said, voice choked. “Wanted to get to…” she tried to point but ended up clutching at his shoulder as his thumb scraped over her clit, dragging and swirling just soft enough for his callouses to scratch at the sensitive nerves.

 

“Shoulda run faster,” he hissed in her ear.

 

She reached behind and between them to stroke him through his jeans, squeezing at the rigid outline of him, and moaning as sticky wet sounds echoed in the air around them. He laughed and curled his fingers inside of her, his thumb pressing and his ring finger teasing between her cheeks.

 

“Oh shit, Brock, fuck, fuck fuck…”

 

“Say it,” he growled into her neck.

 

“Brock,” she whimpered and his fingers beckoned inside of her, stroking and turning her into a shuddering mass in his arms. “Make me come, make me come.”

 

Her chant continued, losing it’s rhythm and any resemblance to words as he bit and sucked along the soft flesh of her throat, bucking his hips into where her hand was losing a battle against his zipper. His thumb pressed hard against her clit and he growled into her skin and the spiraling pressure burst out.

 

The trees spun overhead as Darcy sobbed with relief, body shaking as she came down. Brock pulled his fingers out of her unceremoniously and she whimpered. He turned her over in his hold and then up over his shoulder.

 

“Shit,” she said, breathy from surprise. She whacked a fist against his back. “I was barely done.”

 

“Don’t act like I won’t be getting you off again in a minute,” he grumbled. “Where the fuck am I heading anyway?”

 

“Top of the incline,” she said, half surprised he was even taking it into consideration. (No, Darcy. Don’t be impressed by this. Brock was a wild animal and the last thing she needed was to think she could start training him.)

 

Brock grunted as he carried her up the back of the rock outcropping. She could hear the exact moment he saw the moss bed. Could almost feel his eyes rolling in his head. He set her on her feet at the top and gave her a long examining look.

 

“Lay down,” he said, eyes narrowing. “And lift your skirt up. This wolf’s hungry. And it’s time for you to howl.”

 

She rolled her eyes but she felt herself ache all over again regardless. She scrambled to find the softest spot on the ground and then flipped the front of her skirt up, spreading her legs and biting back a smile as she watched his expression darken at the view she presented.

 

This was why she had brought him out here. Maybe she just liked him wild. Maybe she was a little bit of a wild animal too.


	4. 4. Wintershock - T for hollyspacey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'I thought you liked horror movies.' 'I liked the idea of holding your hand during horror movies. I hate horror movies.’ For hollyspacey  
> Darcy Lewis/Bucky Barnes

Bucky cringed and stared at the blinking clock of the tv doohickey and tried to ignore the sounds of a chainsaw cutting through bone and flesh. It was…uncomfortably accurate to his knowledge. At his side Darcy whimpered softly and Bucky looked down to find her staring fixedly at the hem of his t-shirt sleeve, face wincing and fingers wrapping tightly around his own.

 

“You don’t like this one?” he asked, hoping the answer was ‘yes.’

 

“What?” Darcy looked up at him, eyes wide and let go of his hand. “No! It’s…” she glanced at the screen, paled, and looked back to him quickly. “It’s a classic.”

 

Bucky squinted at her for a long moment, watching a blush spread over her cheeks, before she forced herself to look back at the screen, flinching at a spray of blood.

 

“Well I hate it,” he said.

 

Darcy’s hair whipped over his shoulder and she turned to look up at him. “You do?”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky said shrugging. “I’ve hated all of them.”

 

“You have?” she asked, expression falling.

 

“I just thought you liked horror movies,” he said. “And I don’t mind ignoring them with you next to me.”

 

Darcy’s lips fell open and she gazed up at the ceiling for a moment, blinking. “I liked the idea of holding your hand during horror movies,” she said finally. “I hate horror movies.”

 

Bucky grinned and Darcy rolled her eyes, and then covered them with her free hand. He’d laid claim to the other again, knotting their fingers together as he turned on the couch to face her.

 

“Sam and Steve said they were good for that sort of thing,” Bucky said. “Mostly they make me feel kind of queasy.”

 

“So queasy!” Darcy said, twisting so their knees bumped gently together. “And like…I can’t even go around dark corners after. I’ve been turning all the lights in my apartment on every night for weeks.”

 

“I like musicals,” he said. “I like the dancing and the fancy outfits.”

 

“Oh my god, you are _so_ sexy, did you know that?” She was grinning and pulling her legs up underneath her on the couch to nestle closer to him.

 

His throat made a little sound and his thoughts spun through a time when he _did_ know that and he enjoyed it and he would’ve known exactly how to show a girl like Darcy why he didn’t mind watching six horror movies in three weeks.

 

“Sooo…” Darcy said, drawing him back to the moment. “You hate horror movies but you like sitting next to me and you don’t mind holding my hand?”

 

“I’m here for the hand holding,” he said. “Main motivator.”

 

“Did Steve and Sam mention what else horror movies are good for?” Darcy asked, scooting closer in.

 

Bucky was pretty sure they had and he had blown off the idea that Darcy—cheerful, sarcastic, brilliant Darcy—was gonna want anything from him but a scary movie buddy. He stretched his arm out across the back of the couchto flick at the end of Darcy’s hair on her shoulder as a woman screamed hysterically on the screen.

 

“Might have,” he said, lips twitching. “M’old though. Might need a reminder.”

 

Her lips curled slyly up to one side. She pounced in time with a large bang from the movie, her hands bracing on his shoulders to push him back into the couch as she climbed up onto his lap with a giggle.

 

“You either have excellent game, or none at all,” Darcy said, laugh in her voice and grin on her face.

 

“Come down here and find out, doll,” he said from the cushions.

 

He wondered for half a thought if he could live up to his own memories, to her expectations. But she sighed, high and soft as their lips slid together, sweet and slippery and pressing deeper. Her body relaxed, spreading out over the length of him, melting against him as he turned to cage her against the back cushions, cradling her in his hold. And he thought that this was all a little bit familiar and absolutely never better.


	5. 5. Taserwings - G for probablyunnecessary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5\. ‘I will trade you all fruity and sour candies in exchange for your kitkats.’'That’s a criminal trade and you know it. KitKats are like the solid gold bars of Halloween candy.’ For probablyunnecessary  
> Darcy Lewis/Sam Wilson

Darcy walked into the common room to find two hordes of halloween candy spread across the dining table, carefully separated down the center.

 

Tony sat on one end sucking on a tootsie pop, feet propped up on the arm of another chair. He pointed the tootsie pop down the length of the table at Sam Wilson, and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

 

“I will trade you all my fruity and sour candies in exchange for your KitKats,” Tony bargained.

 

Sam’s lips twisted as he looked down at his collection. Darcy could spot at least ten KitKats from where she stood.

 

“That’s a criminal trade and you know it,” Darcy said, walking up to the table and sitting down at a chair. Wilson needed a negotiator, clearly. New guy. “KitKats are like the solid gold bars of Halloween candy.”

 

“Lewis, I don’t pay you for this,” Tony snapped.

 

“You don’t pay me on Sundays, period,” Darcy answered and then looked back at Sam.

 

“What if I’m not a fan of chocolate?” Sam asked.

 

“You’re insane,” Darcy said shrugging. “But still, what Tony has isn’t worth more than four KitKats. Save the rest and fleece Clint next. He hates sour stuff, he’ll probably beg you to take it. And Thor loves peanut butter so you can get all his starbursts and jolly ranchers for a few Reese’s cups.”

 

“You are ruining this holiday for me,” Tony muttered from the end of the table.

 

Sam studied Darcy for a long moment, a slow-growing smile spreading across his lips that made her want to squirm in her seat. He turned back to Tony.

 

“I’ll give you five cause I’m a nice guy,” Sam said. “But I’m not bargaining past that.”

 

Tony snarled, glaring at Darcy and then leaned forward, feet thumping to the floor, to separate his stash, pushing all of Sam’s winnings petulantly across the table. Sam stacked his five KitKats like poker chips and left them where Tony could reach, before settling back into his chair looking like a king surveying his stash of gold.

 

“You’re on my shit list, Lewis,” Tony muttered, taking his shrunken pillow case of candy out of the room with him.

 

Darcy stayed where she was and smiled at Sam.

 

“So,” he said after Tony had stomped off down the hall. “You kind of threw yourself under the bus for me.”

 

“Nah, Tony’s easy,” Darcy said with a wave of her hand and Sam’s eye brows raised.

 

“Well…I don’t see any candy with you, so I’m kind of wondering what you’re planning on trading,” he said.

 

“Oh I don’t do this,” Darcy said, waving her finger over the table to indicate the exchange. “I just clean out all the local convenience stores when the candy goes on sale the next day.”

 

He frowned. “That’s not very sporting.”

 

“No but it means I have a long term supply of candy to bribe my scientists with,” Darcy said. Sam laughed and she continued. “However…I see that you’ve found yourself in possession of Sixlets. These are especially valuable in dealing with a persnickety astrophysicist and extremely hard to find.” She swept her hair over one shoulder and watched Sam’s eyes flick down to her neck for an extended beat. Good. She continued, “Now. I didn’t get any fruits or sours this year because they don’t come in handy for me so I’m not sure what I can offer as a trade.”

 

Sam grinned and looked out over the table and then back to Darcy, “I think I’m all set on candy. But I’m a sympathetic dude. How about dinner? We can throw in dessert if you’re having a nice time.”

 

Darcy grinned and felt her cheeks warm at the lazy smile on Sam’s face. “I’m already having a nice time,” she said.


	6. 6. Tasertorch - T for bloomsoftly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6\. whispered in the ear- 'Boo.’ For bloomsoftly  
> Darcy Lewis/Johnny Storm

“Boo!”

 

Darcy watched, gleeful, as Johnny jumped in place, yelpingas all the blood drained from his face at once.

 

“Damn it, Darcy! Not cool,” Johnny growled under his breath, the color flushing back into his cheeks. He glared up and down the halls, checking for witnesses.

 

“I’m sorry it’s just…now that I know…” Darcy giggled.

 

“It’s not funny,” he said, very firmly. Or as firmly as he could manage it.

 

“No,” Darcy said, still giggling, “It isn’t. It isn’t! You’re right. I’m done, I promise. Really. No more jump scares.”

 

“It is _cheap_ cinema,” Johnny hissed.

 

Darcy snorted. “Ohmigod, you’re adorable.”

 

Johnny rolled his eyes with a scoff but leaned into her space with a smirk. “I can give you much better reasons to think so, I assure you.”

 

Darcy paused, squinted and watched Johnny squirm as she made him sweat it out.

 

“I’m…good. Thanks,” she said.

 

“Sure, sure, so tell me. What do ‘spooky little girls like you’ get up to on Halloween night?”

 

“Wooooww. I got that reference but…still…”

 

“Aw Darce, give me a break,” Johnny laughed, combing thick fingers through tousled hair like he _knew_ what it did to her.

 

Which he couldn’t have, right? Cause she was trying _really_ hard to keep that a secret from him and pretty much everyone else.

 

Everyone but Natasha because that was useless. And because she was walking by them in the hall with that little purse in her lips as if to ask Darcy, ‘Really? I spent three weeks trying to set you up with Marco from Graphics and you’re ogling Johnny Storm’s side part?’

 

Or maybe that was just Darcy’s conscience speaking.

 

“I’m going to one of those real life scare experiences,” Darcy said. “You know, where they grab you off the street and make you stick your fingers in jello and yell at you a lot?”

 

Johnny blanched.

 

“I’m joking,” she admitted. “I’m gonna put on my Freddy Krueger onesie and watch Hocus Pocus on repeat until I pass out in a candy coma. You wanna come? You have to wear a costume.”

 

“But you said you were wearing-”

 

“A Freddy Krueger onesie is very scary,” Darcy said, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Yeah, okay,” Johnny said.

 

And that was when Darcy realized she'd just invited Johnny Storm to her apartment for the night.

 

_

 

There were several available solutions to the ‘Invited Johnny Storm over for Halloween Netflix (sort of) and Chill’ situation. Darcy tried all of them.

 

She invited Natasha, Sam, Steve, Sue, Bucky, Tony, Ben, Pepper, Maria, Nick Fucking Fury, and Clint over to join them. (Jane and Thor were off world.)

 

Everyone but Clint had plans.

 

She washed her face clean of make up and wore her bra without underwire. She turned all the lights on and she ordered garlic cheesy bread with the pizza.

 

But none of that helped when Darcy opened the door and found Johnny Storm wearing an astronaut onesie with a little astronaut’s backpack. Which he swung forward and opened, revealing bags of candy and a box of Hostess Scary Cakes.

 

“Boo!” he said, beaming at her. “I brought reinforcements.”

 

“I didn’t invite you here for sex,” Darcy said, partly to remind herself because holy crap he was the cutest thing she’d ever seen. She turned and pointed behind her. “See? Clint is here.”

 

Clint waved from the couch, garbed in a grumpy cat onesie, loaf of garlic cheesy bread halfway to his mouth.

 

“Yeah, I knew that,” Johnny said shrugging. “Still wanna hang out.”

 

“Ohhhhkay cool,” Darcy said, stepping back to let the man in.

 

Johnny ended up sitting between Darcy and Clint on the couch, with Clint’s cat paw slippered feet up on his lap. And somewhere along the night the lights got turned off because there was too much glare in the graveyard scene. And then somewhere farther along in the night Clint rolled off the couch with one of the cushions and ended up sprawled across her floor, all the Scary Cake wrappers spread around him, snoring.

 

And then a bit after that Johnny leaned in to whisper in her ear, “That Freddy Krueger onesie really is terrifying.”

 

Darcy tipped the brim of the fedora at the top of the hood farther down her forehead.

 

“I know,” she said.

 

Johnny passed her half his kit-kat.

 

“You need me to hold your hand or something?” she asked.

 

She could feel him looking at her. “Yeah, I think I do,” he said.

 

So she did.


	7. 7. Shieldshock - G for bval-1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7\. 'I’m on a long term mission to find the best possible pumpkin spice latte. Wanna hop along?’ shieldshock for bval-1  
> Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers

“Hey, Darce.”

 

Darcy paused in chewing on her banana, taking a moment to collect herself, before continuing. Because the last time Steve had passed her in the communal kitchen and said ‘hey’ she had almost choked on her oatmeal in front of Tony and the Black Widow. Which had been embarrassing.

 

“Hey, Steve,” she answered, tossing away the peel. “How’s it going?”

 

“Good, good…it’s good,” he said.

 

Darcy froze at the trashcan before turning slowly back to face him. He was leaning against the long island, finger tracing patterns in the marble countertop.

 

“That’s good,” she said, nodding and she watched his nose scrunch.

 

“Yeah…so…” He looked up, blinked twice, lips twisting on his face before looking back down at the countertop. “So I’ve heard a lot about pumpkin spice lattes.”

 

Huh. “They’re…a pretty big deal this time of year, I guess, yeah,” Darcy said, walking over to lean against the opposite side of the counter.

 

“There’s a lot of…hyperbole nowadays,” Steve said, maybe more to himself.

 

“Hyperbole…and pumpkin spice lattes are _literally_ what the world relies on for basic sanity and everyday joy now,” Darcy said.

 

Steve’s eyes narrowed at her for a moment and Darcy held her stony expression until his smile cracked through.

 

“Well everyone’s giving me a lot of shit about them and not having found ‘my brand’ so…I’m on a long term mission to find the best pumpkin spice latte. You wanna hop along? Nat said you might have ‘millenial insight.’”

 

“Rude,” Darcy said immediately and then felt terrible because Steve looked so genuinely distressed at the accusation. “No, I mean…don’t tell her I said that. It’s fine.” She waved her hand quickly in the air as if to erase the words.

 

And the smell of matchmaking on the wind.

 

But Steve was still wincing when she finally convinced her hand to _chill out_ and settle down.

 

So she said, “Yeah. I know all about the mythical PSL. Let’s start our quest.”

 

_

 

“I can’t believe you’re making us start at Dunkin' Donuts.”

 

“I can’t believe this is $3.50, it’s so small.”

 

“Oh, Steve.”

 

_

 

“ _Wow!_ That’s a lot of nutmeg. That’s more nutmeg than I thought would fit into a coffee drink.”

 

“Are these _supposed_ to taste like pumpkin? Shouldn’t they just be called Spice Lattes.”

 

“Shhhh…if the marketing teams making billions on the PSL hear you they might take a hit out on us.”

 

“I think I could keep us safe.”

 

“…fair.”

 

_

 

“Darce, this is an ice cream shop.”

 

“Yeah but I read online that they put a pumpkin spice latte over pumpkin pie ice cream.”

 

“Lead the way.”

 

_

 

“Okay so…this one. This one tastes like-”

 

“Squash.”

 

“Yeah. They leaned in to the pumpkin side.”

 

_

 

“You want to…to hang out in here a bit?”

 

“There are board games, of course I want to hang out a bit. You competitive, Steve?”

 

“I’m not gonna let you win just cause you’re pretty if that’s what you’re asking.”

 

“That’s…I…okay. Good. I won’t let you win just cause of your dreamy baby blues either then.”

 

_

 

“Starbucks. Isn’t this a chain?”

 

“I really appreciate the anti-corporate monopoly side of Captain America, but I did a lot of research and even the coffee snobs say this is the best combination of spice and pumpkin flavor.”

 

“…S’probably artificial.”

 

“You’re an adorable shit-stirrer.”

 

…

 

“This…this is really good.”

 

“Especially considering I was getting kind of tired of these.”

 

“I guess…that’s that.”

 

“Oh. Yeah. I guess.”

 

_

 

Darcy was bent over her desk, head turning between Jane’s chicken scrawl that was practically spiraling around the pages of her notebook, and the computer monitor.

 

“Darcy,” Jane said from underneath a ticking contraption.

 

“M’almost done,” Darcy answered.

 

“Take a break.” Darcy froze at the suggestion. Jane never suggested breaks. Then she added, “You’ve got a visitor.”

 

Darcy spun her chair around to watch Steve stepping carefully over the the loose pipes and tools that spread out around Jane like an iron and steel mandala.

 

“Steve,” she said. Blushing, because _yes, Steve, obviously_ and because he was carrying two tall paper cups with coffee lids. “Miss me? Or the PSL?”

 

“You,” he said, cheeks pinking as he sat down on a little stool at her side and passed her the cup.

 

She was going to tell him that she missed him too, she just needed a sip of caffeinated courage first. The coffee zipped across her tongue, bright ginger and rich, bitter chocolate.

 

“Ohhh,” she said, looking down at the lid as if that might reveal the secret. “This is not pumpkin.”

 

“Dark chocolate gingerbread,” Steve said, a smile creeping across his lips.

 

“Mmmm.” Darcy took another sip and let her eyes fall shut happily.

 

“Save me a sip,” Jane said from under the metal rig.

 

“We’ll see,” Darcy said. This was definitely more her coffee speed.

 

“Sooo…The Uncommons just started the latte playoffs. They’ve made up a bunch of flavors and you buy the ones you like to narrow it down to a winner. There’s a bracket and everything,” Steve said.

 

“Awww, board game place? I loved board game place,” Darcy said.

 

“Yeah,” Steve said. And his feet scuffed against the tile and his shoulders drew into his ears.

 

“We should probably try them all,” Darcy said. She tucked her free hand under her thigh and crossed her fingers, hoping this was where he was leading the conversation.

 

He looked up at her, grinning, cheeks dimpling. “We are kind of experts,” he said.

 

“Yeah, and I still need to kick your ass at Risk.”

 

He shook his head and smiled fondly at her. “That’s funny but you’re competing against real world experience.”

 

“Shut up, Captain Smartypants. I can take you.”


	8. 8. Tasertorch - E for zephrbabe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8\. 'Hey, there’s a lot to be said for a werewolf’s sexual appetite.’ For zephrbabe  
> Darcy Lewis/Johnny Storm  
> This is nsfw!

Darcy balled up on the couch, whimpering as another coil of need unwound in her belly, spiralling out to leave her shivery and aching.

 

Johnny’s gaze, which had been staring at a point on the wall beyond her head, flicked down to her at the pathetic sound. He frowned and scooted forward on the couch, drawing Darcy into his lap, hands soothing up and down her back. She groaned softly behind her teeth and resisted the urge straddle him and start to rut, but it left her squirming against his chest and trying to ball up tighter.

 

“Well…” Johnny said. “Werewolf explains a lot. I’ll stop doing that thing where I make you jealous just to rile you up.”

 

“I really hate that,” Darcy growled into his hoody. Although she understood it, the sex after was always _spectacular._

 

“Sorry I kept getting sore when you blew off my full moon date night ideas. I get that now.” He was nodding above her, chin resting at the top of her head.

 

“It would’ve been romantic,” Darcy said in a soft whine. “I’m sorry I’m faulty.”

 

“Whoa! Whoa, hey, don’t say that,” Johnny said, and his hands dug under her armpits to pull her up to face him. His eyes widened at her resulting moan and the way she bounced urgently over his hips, eyes slammed shut as she searched for friction. “You aren’t faulty. And I set your sheets on fire last week when you went down on me so…”

 

Darcy growled softly in the back of her throat and bit down on her lip, steeling herself in his hold, but she couldn’t stop her hips from rocking over his. He was stirring under her and there was a slow burn of relief building.

 

She opened her eyes to find a light blush spreading up Johnny’s neck. ( _God, she wanted to_ bite _it.)_ “You set my sheets on fire every time, babe,” she said with a wink and Johnny’s head fell back in a laugh. She darted forward to lick a long stripe up the length of his throat, purring at the vibration of the moan under his skin.

 

“Personally,” Johnny said with a gasp, “I think there’s a lot to be said for a werewolf’s sexual appetite.”

 

Darcy winced and pulled away and Johnny’s head lifted in surprise. Usually she’d be at his neck until there were at least three hickeys blooming on the abused skin.

 

“What? What’d I say?” he asked. His hips lifted under hers teasingly and she pushed down until they were both still.

 

“It’s just…this is gonna be…kind of a lot,” Darcy said.

 

“I like a lot,” Johnny said immediately, that eager little boy smile on his face that she loved— _liked_ —so much.

 

“It’s gonna be like our sex marathon from two months ago, but _more_ like a marathon,” Darcy said, trying to impress up on him the gravity of the situation while also trying not to encourage the way he was bucking under the grip of her hips. But it felt _sooo_ good.

 

“I loved that sex marathon,” Johnny insisted. He blinked for a moment and stopped moving and she whimpered again. “Hey wait…what’ve you been doing without me leading up to the last three full moons?”

 

“Toys,” she said with a shrug. “It’s not…as good, I guess, as being with someone. But it’s less explanation and it means I’m not grabbing randos off the street to burn off a rut.”

 

“Aww Darce,” Johnny said and he leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “I’m always gonna be here for your ruts, okay?”

 

She tried not to read _too_ much into the ‘always’ in that statement. Things had been going surprisingly good for four months with Johnny despite her initial guess that he was in it for sex. To be fair, there was _a lot_ of sex. That was kind of a thing for her. But he was also really good about her more territorial tendencies. And her general need for a cuddle a lot of the time. She nuzzled into the side of his neck, rubbing her cheek there for a moment to mark him with her scent before pulling away.

 

“Okay,” she said, releasing a deep breath. “I hope you had a big breakfast cause you’re gonna need the energy. Take off your pants.”

 

She lifted off his lap with a reluctant whine and reached to the zipper of her own pants, pushing them down with her soaked underwear over her socks. She meant to take off the rest of her clothes. Or at least her socks. But then Johnny was stepping out of his boxer briefs and his cock was hard and red and swollen and she _throbbed_ with the need to have him inside of her.

 

“Oof, _okay!_ ” Johnny said cheerfully as she pushed him back down onto the couch cushions.

 

She climbed onto his lap with two swift movements and Johnny wrapped one hand around his cock and settled the other onto her hip to line them up. She sank down with a long groan and Johnny echoed it with every inch.

 

“God you’re so tight,” he said as she shimmied her way down the last length of him until he was buried inside of her to the hilt. “Feels so good.”

 

He felt incredible. She was swollen and aching and Johnny was hot inside of her, and hard, and every breath either one of them took shifted him slightly so he brushed on a new sweet place that left her legs trembling and little squeaks of pleasure rising up from her throat.

 

“Oh shit I’m so close,” Darcy said. “Forgot how good this feels.”

 

“Wanna,” Johnny panted for a moment as she rose back up slowly and then pressed down in one hard, sharp fall. “Wanna change positions to draw it out?”

 

“No, no, no,” Darcy chanted as she rode him. “I’m… shit. I’m gonna get really tight when I come. Gonna knot you.”

 

“Whoaa,” Johnny moaned, eyes widening as she squeezed around him with her impending orgasm. “Knot?”

 

“Yeah,” Darcy said. She took a breath and stilled on him, hands cupping his face to explain. “You probably won’t be able to finish. Just gotta get me off a few times and I’ll release. Is that okay?”

 

“Like a cock ring?” Johnny asked. Darcy nodded, holding her breath for his answer. “I’m _so_ into that, Darce.”

 

They grinned at each other for a long moment, a giddy giggle escaping her lips. She kissed him, licking into his mouth and sweeping her tongue over his teeth, searching for every flavor of him. His hands were on her knees and he was spreading them away from him, stretching her farther open as she groaned into his mouth. She pulled away as he started to thrust, deep and quick.

 

“Oh my god,” Darcy said. Johnny’s gaze was focused between them, a furrow of concentration on his brow, lips hard and jaw clenched as he hit heavily inside of her. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.”

 

She pushed her face into his shoulder and he leaned his head to the side, stretching the muscles.

 

“Is that a thing too?” he asked, grunting as he bucked inside of her. “You wanna bite?”

 

“Oh my god, Johnny,” she breathed, and she felt herself starting to clench and swell.

 

“Holy shit,” he muttered. “Bite. You can bite.”

 

“Just a little,” she whispered, more to herself, and then she wrapped her teeth around the curve of his shoulder and howled against his skin as she came, her knot muscles squeezing and tying around Johnny’s cock as he buried himself against her with a rolling groan deep in his chest.

 

“Holy shit,” he repeated. “God that’s so good. Holy shit.”

 

Darcy shifted her legs impatiently, and Johnny rolled them over so she was laying in the cushions with his weight pressing her down. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled away from his shoulder to lick at the sweat on his neck, and nibble along his jaw.

 

“This good?” he asked, voice tight, hips nudging gently against hers.

 

“So good,” she answered, kissing the lobe of his ear. “Feels…amazing. You’re so good.”

 

He kissed at her lips, and she could feel the tension in his back as she stroked her hands over his ribs.

 

“I’ll loosen up,” she said.

 

“Don’t want you to,” he said, smiling down at her. “Not yet. Wanna watch you fall apart more.”

 

He squeezed a hand between them, fingers seeking out her clit and starting to swirl, a soft glow of pleasure spreading out under her skin from that point of light pressure.

 

“Can be arranged,” she breathed. She arched her back and he leaned down to wrap his lips over the top of her breast. “I’ll probably be up for doing this a few more times over the next day.”

 

“Oh my god, werewolf sex marathon is my _jam_ ,” Johnny mumbled into her breast, grinning and nipping at her skin as she burst into happy laughter.


	9. 9. Wintershock - T for dresupi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9\. ‘I just now realized I’m on a date with a ghost.’ Wintershock for dresupi

In her defense, she thought the whole ‘doll’ thing was an affectation.

 

The same went for the slicked back hair, the tailored pinstripe suit, the genuine enjoyment of jazz. (Darcy knew they were talented musicians she just couldn’t totally get into it, okay?)

 

If it weren’t the fact that he’d been sweet, checking on her when her heel caught in one of the raw old floorboards, and funny, joking about the fact the Green Mill Lounge was doing well enough it ought to be able to afford new floors since 1945, she probably would have wrote him off as too cheesy. It helped that he was disgustingly beautiful with his stupid little chin dimple and those pale eyes that practically glowed in the dim light of the bar.

 

She’d come for a friend’s birthday bar crawl and he’d shown them all the trap door Al Capone had used to escape to the Lakeshore during raids, and she sort of figured he worked for the bar, charming women and convincing them to stay for another drink. It was effective. She came back the next week.

 

She would learn to like jazz.

 

And she did a little. She like the music they played as he shepherded her around the dance floor, so familiar with the right moves that it only took a little nudge, a gentle leading, for her to follow him.

 

“You’ve got light feet,” he teased her.

 

She did _not_ but she told that to Jane anyway who looked up from the triple axel EMF meter she’d been tinkering with, and frowned skeptically.

 

“Why don’t you guys get coffee or something,” Jane suggested.

 

And Darcy thought about asking Bucky to go out for a late night coffee, or even just to come back to her place. Buthe never brought up leaving the bar or seeing each other anywhere else. Just bought all her drinks and set her spinning around the dance floor (she wore flats now since the Green Mill really did seem to love their rickety old floorboards.)

 

Bucky held her close, cool cheek pressed to hers, as Darcy tried to pull her courage together in time with his gentle stroking up and down her spine.

 

“I think,” she whispered in his ear, and he shifted against her to listen. “I think you should come home with me tonight.”

 

Their steps faltered and Bucky stepped back from her, face falling.

 

“I can’t do that, Doll,” he said softly.

 

Darcy bit at the inside of her lip and looked down to the floor at their feet pointed toward each other.

 

“Don’t think I don’t want to,” he said, reaching out to chuck gently at her chin.

 

She took another step away and squinted up at him. “Are you married?”

 

“What? No, Darce, it ain’t like that, I swear,” he said, eyes wide and shining blue despite the green dance floor lights shining down on them.

 

“I don’t- I need a minute,” Darcy said.

 

She’d never been very good with rejection, and while Bucky’s hand brushed against her wrist as she pulled away he didn’t grab on and she made it to the ladies restroom alone. A woman was washing her hands at the sink and Darcy went to stand in front of the mirror, blinking back stinging tears and fiddling with her dress as if she had a reason for being there. The door swung shut behind the woman as she left and Darcy rounded to the sink, turning on the cold water and splashing it over her face. She’d wipe away her make up, gather up her dignity, give Bucky her number and tell him to call her if he ever wanted anything other than dancing and flirting. She didn’t need to spend more Saturday nights in a kitschy _jazz_ club that was still peddling the gangster glory days. She lifted her face to wash away the streaks of mascara and found a familiar face staring back at her off one of the stall doors.

 

She turned, water dripping down her neck, to study the newspaper articles that plastered the swinging doors. She’d always thought it was a little gruesome that the Green Mill advertised all the people who had died at the club in the women’s restroom of all places. She’d never took a very good look at _who_ those people were.

 

Like James ‘Bucky’ Buchanan Barnes, the young soldier come home from the war and roped into a life of light crime. Seduced by the femme fatale girlfriend of a budding mafiosa boss, and shot down for it in the women’s restroom. And there was that stupidly handsome face and it’s ridiculous dimpled chin, all dressed up in his army uniform, smirking back at her.

 

Ohhhh Jane would give her so much shit for this when she got back to the lab.

 

“Wanted to tell you.”

 

Darcy looked over her shoulder and there he was, pale and beautiful, dressed in that same silly suit, hair still perfectly combed back from his face.

 

“You can’t leave the bar,” Darcy said and Bucky nodded down at the floor. “Oh. Oh, have I- Does everyone think I’m some dumb girl who slow dances by herself?”

 

Bucky grinned at that and shook his head. He took a step forward, studying her carefully, and when she didn’t shy away his shoulders dropped slightly, smile growing.

 

“No, they can see me, more or less,” he said shrugging. “It’s just fuzzy. They won’t remember me exactly. Don’t know how you do.”

 

“I’m a medium,” Darcy said. “I work for paranormal scientist. Who is never going to let me live this down.”

 

“I knew I’d never met anyone like you, Doll,” he said, voice soft and fond, sending fizzling tingles up and down her spine.

 

“Ohh Bucky…I can’t keep doing this,” Darcy said, backing up slightly into the post between the stalls. “We can’t even kiss.”

 

Bucky approached in slow, even steps, smiling and watching her face with heavy focus. “We can dance. We can kiss,” he said.

 

And maybe he had a point because his hands felt suddenly heavy on her hips. Her steps opened, fitting him against her until her back was pressed up the length of the metal post and Bucky’s nose was stroking down the length of her own. He was cool, cooler than a person ought to be, but he _was_ solid. She was probably insane all the same but she tilted her head back and sighed as soft lips pressed to hers.

 

Her hands dug into the old wool suit and Bucky groaned as her lips parted.

 

She was in so much trouble. The man — the ghost — could _kiss_.

 

She was melting down the post and Bucky was pulling her harder against his chest and everything was shivery good, as he liked into her mouth. He tasted like old whiskey and smoke and her toes were curling in her shoes. He retreated slowly, teeth nibbling at her lips, mouth kissing across her cheek.

 

“We have _got_ to make you corporeal,” Darcy said, trying to catch her breath. “I can’t live in this womens restroom.”

 

“I’m all on board,” Bucky said, low and rumbling as he sucked a path down her neck.

 

“Okay.” She nodded and her head fall back. “Okay…we’ll call Jane. She loves a new project. Ohhh, Bucky. Call Jane next. This first,” and she dragged him into the bathroom stall with her.

 


	10. 10. Hawkshock - T for sarastark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10\. ’This an actual haunted house! I thought you meant the kind with actors!’ for sarastark  
> Darcy Lewis/Clint Barton

“This is an actual haunted house, Darce! I thought you meant the kind with actors!” Clint said, freezing on the crumbling stone walkway leading to the decrepit old victorian sprawling over the property. Elaborate cut-wood trim lined the pointed roofs and wrap-around-porch, toothy and jagged where pieces had broken away. The paint job was faded and peeling and Clint couldn’t decide if it had started sky blue or brick red but by this light it was managing ‘scary movie soot gray.’

 

Darcy stood, one foot on the first step and looked up at the beams of the porch roof, nose wrinkling thoughtfully. At least there weren’t spiderwebs everywhere, Clint could say that much.

 

“Why would we go to one of those?” she asked.

 

“Uhhhh…cause it’s Halloween weekend? That’s what people do?”

 

“But this is so…” she spread her arms out cheerfully, “Authentic.”

 

The front door creaked for no apparent reason and Clint could have sworn he saw the house sway to the left.

 

“That’s my problem, yeah,” he muttered to himself.

 

“Come on,” Darcy said grinning. “We’re just gonna camp out and hold hands while the floorboards creak. The police already took the body out of the wall for testing.”

 

“The _what_???” Clint asked rushing up to the stairs. What had he actually agreed to coming here for? He’d been watching last year’s puppy bowl (he was really behind on his dvr, okay?) when Darcy had invited him to go to a haunted house the weekend before Halloween. And he knew there were details he’d missed while the little husky puppy intercepted the ball from the golden retriever but…this was a pretty big detail.

 

“You didn’t listen to me at all did you?” Darcy asked, but she didn’t look so mad about it. “This is the house that Rita from HR and Todd from product development bought together to fix up. And then found a sealed up cupboard with a body inside.”

 

“That’s horrific,” Clint breathed.

 

“It’s super fucking weird,” Darcy agreed. “Annnd they are super weird energy readings all over the house. Which is why I am here. Tony wants to nerd out over them…remotely. And you are here to hold my hand while I do that. In case I get scared. Except, you look really pale now so maybe I should just-“

 

“No, no, I’m good,” Clint said, trying to decide if it was his twitchy reflection moving in the window or… “Lead the way.”

 

“You sure? I can do this alone, or I could call, like, Buck-“

 

“No, I’m totally good,” Clint said, whipping back to stare at her. He caught her biting away a smile. Damn it. He shouldn’t have fallen for the Bucky thing. It’s just…this wasn’t exactly the _date_ he thought she’d been asking him out on.

 

Not that she would have needed to ask him out on a date if he’d ever managed to ask her out on - oh, shit she was walking into the house. The dark, creepy, bodies in secret cupboards in the walls house.

 

“So we don’t have to like…stay the night or anything?” Clint asked. He shuffled around looking for a good, secure spot to stand in but the damn place was like a maze, full of shadowy little corners and twisting halls. And Darcy was just wandering around with a flashlight in one hand and some kind of Stark scanner beeping mildly in the other. Clint was of the personal opinion that flashlights made dark spaces creepier.

 

“Not unless something goes horribly awry,” Darcy said, dropping her voice and waggling her eyebrows at him. She paused and the flashlight drooped in her hand, illuminating a bit of wall that been scraped away to reveal the bones of the building. “Aw, hey. You’re really freaked out, aren’t you?”

 

“I’m not freaked out. Who’s freaked out? You’re freaked out,” Clint said, leaning against a wall only to jump away again when he discovered that it had a tough and glossy texture. “Oh ew, no. Leather wallpaper. Darce this place has _skin_ on the walls.”

 

“Eww,” she said and joined him, scanning the wall. The tech ‘blooped’ ominously and Clint edged to stand behind her. She glanced over her shoulder at him and raised her eyebrow.

 

“I’m not…scared,” he said. “I’m just…a little superstitious, maybe.”

 

“Maybe,” she agreed, smiling.

 

“Thought I was gonna get to hold your hand,” he said.

 

“Oh, yeah, here take this,” she said, passing him the flashlight and then leaving her hand outstretched for him to take.

 

He weighed the flashlight in his hand. It was nice and heavy, it would do as a bludgeon in a pinch. Not that it was likely to work on a ghost. Darcy’s hand in his was warm, light, and felt strangely safer.

 

“The best readings will probably be upstairs in the room with the cupboard. Let’s grab those and then Tony can come down here for the rest if he likes them so much,” Darcy said, heading up to the wide, winding staircase leading up to the second floor.

 

“Ehnnn,” said Clint. But he followed the lead of her hand, squeezing it a little tighter in his and shining the light ahead of them.

 

There was a creak in the hall of the second story and Darcy and Clint both paused on the staircase. Then a door slammed, the whole house shuddering in the bang and Darcy squeaked and jumped on the step.

 

“Aww, ghost, no,” Clint whispered.

 

“New plan,” Darcy whispered, shuffling down to share the step with Clint, pressing into his side. He slid his finger up to her wrist and felt her pulse hammering there. “We run out the front door, out to the car, go back to the base, and you hold my hand while we watch kids movies.”

 

The was another longer, deeper creak from above.

 

“On three,” Clint whispered.

 

“Nope, now!” Darcy said, and they bolted down the stairs and out the front door as the house groaned around them.

 

“You wanna order pizza?” Clint shouted over the sounds of the house as they jumped down the front stairs all at once.

 

“Pizza is good,” Darcy said voice high as she ran back to the car. She stopped at the passenger side door, eyes narrowed, and the shutters of the haunted house rattled behind them. “You better work up the nerve to make out with me tonight Barton.”

 

Clint blinked for a moment and then jumped as the front door started snapping open and shut with loud ‘cracks!’

 

“Darcy I’ll make out with you at the stop light two blocks away as long as you get in the car and we get the hell out of here.”

 

“Deal,” she said, grinning toothily.

 

He felt a little set up, if he was being honest. But he didn’t mind.


	11. 11. Tasertooth - G for georgiagirlagain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11\. At a pumpkin carving contest 'Who came up with the idea of a contest where all the contestants have knives?!’ tasertooth for georgiagirlagain  
> Darcy Lewis/Victor Creed

“Who came up with the idea of a contest where everyone has knives?!” Darcy hissed to Jane at her side.

 

“Definitely that guy,” Jane whispered back. 

 

Darcy followed her nod over to the man that was prowling- like literally _prowling_ like some kind of wild cat -out of the barn, three enormous pumpkins balanced in his arms like they weighed nothing. And a belt hanging with knives that looked like they belonged on a surgical table. He had something between a sneer and a smirk spreading over his face as he looked around the collection of people gathered under the tent.

 

Darcy kind of thoughy she should have done some more research about this pumpkin carving contest. It had sounded like fun on the little Facebook event she’d seen floating around. But her little Honda Civic stuck out like a sore thumb in the sea of muscle cars and motorcycles parked chaotically around the property. Not that she wasn’t down for a little subculture Halloween festivities. But she would have worn her leather jacket instead of the sweater she found at the Salvation Army covered in fuzzy orange pumpkins with candy corn button eyes.

 

Yeah.

 

The man reached their station, two pumpkins left in his arms. “Ladies, you look new,” he said, voice purring and slow.

 

“We’ll take the really big one, thanks,” Darcy said, reaching out to grab the stem of the beautifully round and outrageously heavy pumpkin in front of her.

 

“Are you sure?” He asked, grin narrow and one skeptical eyebrow raised. “We don’t go for stenciling at this event.”

 

“Do you know the kind of control it takes to install a magnetic pin into mass spectrometer without frying the motherboard?” Jane asked the man, arms folding across lavender colored flannel.

 

“I have no idea what that means,” he said, looking between the two women, brows furrowing and smile growing.

 

“It means we’re gonna win this contest of yours,” Darcy said, joining Jane in her intimidating arm crossing. It might have been even less effective where she snagged at some of the fun fur yarn.

 

He just grinned. “There’s a haunted hayride around the farm in it for you if you do.” He leaned slightly forward into Darcy’s space, smile widening as she held her ground. “I’ll even let you hold my hand if you get scared.”

 

Darcy noticed that while the guy’s smile was actually pretty nice, if not terrifyingly sly and dangerous, his canines were naturally sharp.

 

“Good luck, ladies,” he said before carrying the less impressive pumpkin off to the last station.

 

“You know what, Jane?” Darcy whispered, watching the man walk away.

 

“What?”

 

“We’re gonna win this thing. And when we do, I _am_ gonna hold his hand. That whole. Damn. Ride.”

 

Jane cocked her head slightly to stare at his swagger and the faded elbows of his leather coat. “Goals,” she agreed.

 

_

 

It took them a bit to get comfortable with the deadly selection of tools they were granted for carving. (‘A guy named Victor Creed _would_ design artisanal cutlery,’ Darcy huffed under breath after finding the little pamphlet explaining that the pumpkin farm was owned by the elite knife maker.) But in the end Darcy was proud to say that she was sure they were at least in the top three of carved pumpkins.

 

They’d done a gruesome portrait of a decapitated figure carrying it’s worse for wear head by the throat. If the coat was familiar and the disembodied smile had sharp looking teeth, well, they’d only borrowed inspiration from real life. So as long as Mr. Creed didn’t take offense, Darcy thought they had a decent chance of edging out the admittedly remarkable Victorian haunted house, and the spectacular but obscene tableau of werewolves fucking. If it had been up to her and Jane, the werewolves probably would have won for sheer gall.

 

Victor Creed stood in front of their pumpkin for a _long_ time. Just smirking. Darcy tried not to twitch when he glanced at her over his shoulder. Then he took two white candles, put them in their competitions pumpkins and set them alight. Inside of her’s and Jane’s he lit the winning black candlestick.

 

And despite her expectations, the biker gangs were really happy for her and Jane.

 

“I scare very easily,” she said to Victor Creed after he pulled her up behind him into the hay-filled bed of the wagon.

 

He blinked at her, mouth slightly parted, clearly surprised.When he recovered his eyes were slanted hungrily, scanning her face

 

“Yeah, you look the type,” he said, dry as the desert. “Lucky for you I keep my promises.”


	12. 12. Wintershieldshock - T for bloomsoftly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12\. 'I’ve got fifteen Apple pie recipes and we’re going to test them all. Are you with me?’ for bloomsoftly  
> Darcy Lewis/Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers

 

Bucky ran into Steve’s back as he stopped still on the way into the apartment.

 

“What the-“ Bucky started.

 

“The hell?” Steve said at the same moment.

 

Bucky moved around the broad shoulders blocking his way, and found apples. Apples in blood reds and sour greens and soft pink and yellow shades, clumsily arranged on the counter, bags of flour and sugar and cases of butter and eggs squeezed in whereever they could fit. Darcy was behind the counter, her back to them, bent over a notebook as she flipped pages and muttered to herself.

 

“Hey there, Darce? Hon?” Steve said, passing him to the counter and lifting up a perfectly smooth red apple up from the corner. He brushed it across the shoulder of his shirt and had it poised at his lips when Darcy’s head lifted up and her arm swung back to point squarely at him.

 

“Don’t you dare eat that,” she said firmly, not turning. “I’m not sure I have security apples.”

 

“Security apples?” Steve mouthed to Bucky, setting the apple carefully back down on the marble.

 

“What’s going on, Darcy doll?” Bucky asked. He tried to keep his voice bright because the last time she’d had that tone she’d been so fed up with work and the attitudes in the lab that Bucky’s eyebrow had twitched up - more of an itch than an expression, really - and she’d spent the night on the couch not speaking to him.

 

“Fall fest on the compound,” Darcy said. “I said I’d make the pies.”

 

“The pies?” Steve asked.

 

“Yeah, there’s gonna be an apple pie buffet.” Another page flipped.

 

“There is?”

 

“There is now.”

 

Bucky frowned as he heard that little anxious break of breath in their girl’s voice but Steve carried on.

 

“That sounds great. I didn’t know Kathy had included it in the plans.”

 

“Kathy _didn’t_ ,” Darcy spit out and Steve winced and looked at Bucky, finally catching on to the trap he had laid for himself. “Kathy agreed to the idea but then came back four weeks later not having done anything other than decide that store bought pie isn’t good enough for the Avengers. When I suggested that we all just make the pie and contribute it to the event like a potluck Kathy said ‘No one makes _pie_ anymore.’” Darcy concluded this by twirling around to face them and scoffing loudly. “So I said I’d make them.”

 

“I didn’t know you made pie,” Bucky said.

 

Darcy shifted on her feet and looked at the floor for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t _not_ make pie. I’ve made pies before. A couple of times.”

 

“How…how many pies are you making now?” Steve asked, and Bucky could see his eyes scanning the counter doing the math in his head.

 

“Like thirty,” Darcy said, voice small and high, attempting some kind of nonchalance with the little smile that snuck up on her lips.

 

“Thirty…is a lot of pies…for Saturday?” Bucky said slowly.

 

Darcy chewed at her lip for a moment. “Well, with the two of you and Thor and Clint and Jane and then all the rest of us…I did the math.” She looked up at Bucky, blue eyes wide behind her glasses and he had a feeling he’d be peeling a lot of apples in the next few days. “And we’ve got the two ovens so that’s four pies in at any given time. I’m writing up a schedule. There’s two of each kind and-“

 

“There are different kinds of apple pie?” Steve asked.

 

“Honey caramel apple, and bourbon maple apple, and the granny smith with gruyere,” Darcy started to recite.

 

Bucky went ahead and snuck in behind Darcy to look through her collection of recipes. Apple Bacon Pecan? Chili Pepper Apple Pie? What had happened to pie in the last seventy years??

 

“I’ve got fifteen apple pie recipes and I’m going to bake them all,” Darcy said. She folded her arms and leaned against the counter. “Are you with me?”

 

Bucky turned to the intricately laid out time table on the back page and glanced once at Steve who looked like he was imagining how to go about sneaking bites of all fifteen flavors.

 

“Let’s get this pie crust party started,” Bucky said.

 

_

 

There was a lot of prep. A lot of crust being processed, balled up, chilled, rested, rolled out, frozen, pre-baked. A lot of apples being peeled, sliced, diced, pureed, baked, soaked. Steve cut leaves and trees out of crust dough to create art work on the tops. Bucky peeled and cut and measured as Darcy paced and stirred and mixed until he caught her wincing with every step and hauled her over his shoulder to head to bed.

 

But three days later the kitchen—and Darcy—was caked in sugar, butter, and flour. Darcy’s feet were swollen from all the standing she’d been doing, her back ached from rolling out dough, and her hands were chapped from doing round after round of dishes. (Hers weren’t the only ones doing the washing but they were the ones that healed slowest.)

 

The apartment smelled of cinnamon, brown sugar, and sweetly sour apples. There were notes of bourbon, smokey bacon, tangy well-aged cheese, maple syrup, pears, caramel and honey, but the overwhelming fragrance was apple.

 

And Bucky could see Steve drooling a little, licking at his lips as he hovered over the counter where pies were packed in white pastry boxes.

 

“What do you think we need to do to get samples of these?” Steve whispered to Bucky.

 

“Not on your life, punk,” Bucky hissed back. “What we need to do is get Darcy to quit fussing. Last pies don’t go in the oven in for an hour.”

 

Steve’s lips pressed and twitched as he gazed across the counter at Darcy, her hair streaked with sweat and flour while she brushed cream across the top of her last crusts - which Steve had carved haunted houses into.

 

“You did an amazing job,” Steve said to her.

 

“You have to wait like everybody else,” Darcy said, wrinkling her nose.

 

Steve laughed down at the counter and shook his head. “I’ll go get the water running,”

 

Bucky rounded the counter and wrapped his arms around Darcy’s waist, hands settling at her hips, and smiled as she leaned back against him. One of her feet lifted and braced itself against his shin and he heard her soft, whimpering intake of breath.

 

“Kathy’s gonna feel like a dumbass,” Bucky whispered in her ear.

 

“I know, right?” Darcy said, grinning toothily at the tower of pies waiting on the counter, her head nodding against his shoulder.

 

“Let me wrap these up for you and put them in the freezer?” he asked. “Steve’s getting a bath ready for you.”

 

“Okay…” Darcy said. “But only because I trust you more than him not to eat raw pie.”

 

“I plan on taking anyone out who expects to get a slice of the Honey Currant before me,” Bucky said with a shrug, watching as Darcy shuffle-wobbled away from him. He packed the pies away in a few swift movements and picked Darcy up in his arms on his way out of the kitchen.

 

“Ohh sneaky,” she said, relaxing in his hold.

 

She smelled like caramel and sweat and he wanted to lick it all off her, which didn’t really seem fair given how tired she clearly was. She cuddled into his neck and they made it into the bathroom in time to watch Steve scoop a hefty cup of epsom salts into the warm bath water.

 

“Ohhh, I’m so old even my ninety something boyfriends have to take care of me,” Darcy mumbled from his arms.

 

“C’mere punk,” Bucky said. “Let’s see if we can strip her without her touching the floor.”

 

“Let’s see what else we can do without me touching the floor,” Darcy suggested, perking up as Steve stood, kissed her on the forehead, and started to help Bucky peel their girl out of her leggings.

 

Bucky nuzzled into her neck and found a sticky spot of maple syrup and warm salty skin. Darcy purred as he sucked and she squirmed in his arms.He hummed, pulling away and licking his lips, and Steve’s eyebrows raised.

 

“I think there’s some bourbon over here,” Darcy said. Bucky wasn’t sure how she could always read their minds even with her eyes closed but Steve took the proffered arm and happily wrapped his lips around the hollow of her elbow.

 

Looks like they’d get an early sample of those pies after all.


	13. 13. Wintershock - G for bloomsoftly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 13\. To a fortune teller- 'I’m about to ask you out on a date, so I really hope the next card you turn over is 'The Lovers.’ For bloomsoftly  
> Darcy Lewis/Bucky Barnes

 

 

He was on his way out of the New Montreal neighborhood when Hydra caught his tail. He ducked through the beaded curtain of a little airstream trailer parked along the sidewalk. There was a chalkboard sign outside advertising “Good Fortunes” in curling purple letters and a woman—a girl, no…a woman—inside wearing a soft purple sweater, thick glasses, and jeans ripped at the knees. He looked her over, searching for the threat, and stopped on her black socks decorated with little shooting stars.

 

“You can sit down,” she said, standing over a hot plate where a kettle was working up steam. “I’m making myself tea. Do you want a leaf reading?”

 

“No,” he said, and his tone was too gruff. He cleared his throat as she raised an eyebrow at her little floral teapot. “Nah, don’t like tea.”

 

She wrinkled her nose. “It’s not like it all tastes the _same_ but, sure, okay.”

 

Bucky swallowed and his eyes scanned the trailer. There was a knife out on the tiny kitchenette counter, fairly dull looking, and it was sitting next to a loaf of bread that looked moist and drizzled with sugar and made his mouth water just looking at it.

 

“Would you like a slice?” she asked. “It’s a nutty spice loaf. I found it at the market up a ways.”

 

He swallowed. “No, thank you,” he said, managing to sound normal this time.

 

“Just here for a standard card reading then?” she asked.

 

The space was too tight, but she had a window open over the little sink and he could get out the roof hatch in a pinch. He shifted in place, eyeing out the bead curtain and watched as two Hydra agents walked out of the coffee shop three doors down. The fortune teller was pouring herself a mug of tea by the hot plate.

 

“Umm…how much is it?” he asked.

 

She glanced over her shoulder at him and then back to her tea, flipping the switch off and pulling a tea bag out of the little pot to dry on a small plate.

 

“Eight dollars,” she said, voice a little too high.

 

He stared at her as she shuffled past him to a small table where a deck of cards—gold ouroborus twisting on a black background—waited next to a collection of water rings all layered on top of one another on the surface of the wood. It was too low of a fee he realized. She thought he couldn’t afford whatever she usually charged. But she was still letting him stay?

 

He sat down at the table across from her, turning the chair to face out so he could keep watch.

 

“I’m going to shuffle, and then I’ll cut,” she said as he looked around.

 

He studied the odd assortment of books on palmistry and politics in history and romance novels that lined a single shelf. The little spiny plants that grew out of small pots over her kitchen area. The glittering curtains that hung over the far end of room, hiding the bed from view.

 

“Now, you pick.” Bucky looked back at the table as the cards snapped against the surface and bright turquoise nails split the deck into three piles.

 

He picked the center pile and her lips twitched and then settled. She put the deck back in order and began turning cards out onto the surface.

 

Bucky didn’t really know anything about fortune telling but he could tell by the pictures that it wasn’t much of good news.

 

_

 

Darcy let the man sit and absorb the images from his reading, going back to her teapot to refill her mug. She blinked away tears that had started gathering somewhere around The Devil…only three cards in, and it felt like hours ago. This poor dude.

 

“Where’d you learn to do all this?”

 

She spun in step and leaned back against her counter. He had his fingertip on the edge of the last card, The Fool, a new beginning, the most optimistic part of the whole reading.

 

“The internet,” she said, smiling as his eyes widened for a moment. She felt something flip inside her chest as he smiled back. “It’s kind of lame, I know. But I’d just dropped out of college and I needed something to learn and now…”

 

“You undercharge yourself for strangers,” he said.

 

The laugh burst out of her. She tucked it away behind her hand and watched as another smile snuck its way across his face.

 

“Well given how it turned out, I kind of feel like I ripped you off,” she said, wincing at her loose mouth as he looked back down to the cards on the tables.

 

“Nothin’ there I didn’t already know,” he said softly.

 

“You need a ride out of town?” The words came unbidden and for a moment they stared at each other blankly. She chewed at the corner of her lip and continued, “I’m headed out to Saratoga Springs for an arts festival tomorrow. If you stay in the bed as I go through border control you should be okay.”

 

“Doll, you shouldn’t go around offering rides to strangers,” he said, and his whisper was warm.

 

“I don’t normally,” she said.

 

His brow was furrowed and anxious and Darcy realized that he’d started to stretch out in the chair, the tension in his shoulders unspiraling the longer he stayed. His spine was straight now, balls of his feet braced against the floor in preparation to run. She pushed herself up to perch on the edge of her sink, giving him a few more inches of breathing room, and watched as he eased a fraction in the chair.

 

“It’s up to you,” she said, shrugging. “But I’m heading out before it gets dark.”

 

_

 

Saratoga was good to Darcy. She was just a few booths away from a local winery and the customers seemed to trickle right down into her trailer, giggling and laying twenties down cheerfully for any kind of reading she felt like doing. She even got to test out her phrenology skills when a floppy haired stoner dude let her give him a head massage.

 

The festival was winding down and she was cleaning up teacups and little plates of sweet bread when the beads over her doorway jangled behind her back.

 

“Sorry, I’m just clos- Oh, hey. James.”

 

He was standing just outside the trailer, gloved hand pushing the curtain aside but not moving into her space.

 

“Darcy,” he said, smiling. “How’d it go?”

 

“Really well. You?” He shrugged and she hesitated for a moment before rushing ahead with her question. “You wanna be my driving buddy on the way to Rochester?”

 

_

 

James—Bucky, he’d said it eventually and Darcy thought she might know now why he was running but she didn’t mind—rode with her through Ohio and Kentucky and along the length of Tennessee before they every really mentioned the idea of him tagging along…permanently.

 

“What am I gonna do?”

 

“You’re my muscle,” Darcy said shrugging. “You’re already driving for me.”

 

“You’re a bad driver, doll.”

 

“I _am_ ,” she agreed. “Which is why it’s so nice to have someone doing that for me.”

 

There was a long stretch of quiet—broken by the sound of Darcy crunching on rye chips. She stretched her leg down the length of the bench seat and toed gently at his thigh.

 

“S’not safe for you,” he said and she had to stop chewing to hear the words.

 

“You’d leave if you needed to,” she said and his head twitched in her direction. “I’ve always known that, okay? But just admit that you’re sticking around till you can’t anymore.”

 

His hands squeezed around the steering wheel and then he glanced at her, that small smile growing on his face that she loved drawing out.

 

“Guess I better learn a thing or two.”

 

_

 

“Okay so just start small. Three cards,” she said as Bucky restacked the deck in his hands. He’d taken off the glove somewhere between New Orleans and San Antonio and the metal fingers whistled as they ran along the smooth edges of the cards.

 

“Past,” Darcy said as he turned over the first card.

 

“Three of coins,” he said. “This is about…trade or skills?”

 

“Yeah, in my case it’s about school probably,” Darcy said shrugging. “Something I’ve left behind. Now, present.”

 

“Two of wands. S’like an opportunity?”

 

“And travel,” she said and they grinned at one another. “You’ve been paying attention.”

 

He shrugged a little and she could have sworn she saw a blush peeking up over the edges of the beard he’d been growing out. “Future next?”

 

“Yeah,” Darcy said. Seeing his thumb flip up the corner of the card she blurted out, “I’m about to ask you out on a date so I really hope the next card you turn over is ‘The Lovers’”

 

Bucky’s thumb froze, slipped between the face of the card and the table as his blue eyes grew wide, staring back at hers. He relaxed after a moment and smiled. “Don’t need to be a fortune teller to tell you my answer to that, doll. What’d you have in mind?”

 

“Turn the card over first,” she said.

 

He flipped and never looked down but she caught sight of the two figures entwined together in the image before his fingers wove through hers on the table top.

 

“You wanna go to Phoenix together?” she asked, fighting off her grin.

 

He laughed, sinking back into his chair. Their arms stretched across the table top, knees bumping together underneath.


	14. 14. Darcy/Daniel Sousa - T for phoenix_173

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 14\. ‘The phone keeps ringing but no one’s there when I answer.’ For phoenix_173  
> Darcy Lewis/Daniel Sousa

The landline had come with the apartment. It was even advertised in the listing. _Phone line included, long-distance billed._ Darcy found this sort of whimsical and charming. Who used a landline these days? She toyed briefly with the idea of canceling her cell service, hooking up an answering machine, and going back to a simpler existence where she only took calls at home. And then she quickly tossed the idea out because that was _crazy_.

 

Either way it worked out fine because for a year, five months, and sixteen days the phone never rang and everyone that came over thought it was hilarious and listened to the dial tone for the sake of nostalgia. No big deal.

_

 

The first time the phone rang it was October 1st, Daniel was in her shower, and Darcy was considering joining him because he gave the best head rubs while he washed her hair. Also, because Darcy pretty much couldn’t keep her hands off him.

 

She jumped at the sound of bells jarring out of the wall in her living room.

 

_Brrrrrrrrrring!_

 

_Brrrrrrrrrring!_

 

_Brrrrrrrrrring!_

 

She stared at the old fashioned black rotary phone on it’s little wooden shelf and then shrugged. If it was a telemarketer, she would hang up. The phone had never rung before so she might as well enjoy the novelty of the experience.

 

“Hello?” she said.

 

There was quiet, and soft static.

 

“Helloooo?” she repeated. Still nothing. Maybe her free phone line didn’t really work after all. It wasn’t like she was about to complain to the super about it.

 

She hung up the phone and went to find Daniel.

 

_

 

She met him in the summer in the hallway. He was leaning into his crutch, green canvas army bag over his shoulder, squinting up at the number on her door.

 

“Hey, you lost?” she asked, and shifted the bags of groceries off her shoulder where they were digging bruise lines into her skin.

 

“I…I think so,” he said, and then he turned to look at her and Darcy tried not to think about that fact that she probably had sweat stains in weird places cause it was steamy hot out and she’d just lugged a week’s worth of food five blocks. And that this new guy had a jaw that could cut glass and short dark curls she wanted to dig her fingers into.

 

“My key says one-eighteen,” he said, and he held the tag out for her to look. “But it’s not working.”

 

“Oh yeah,” she said, nodding. “This happens a lot. You came for the pre-furnished apartment? It’s eleven-eight actually. Kind of a bonkers system if you ask me.”

 

“Uh…yeah. You got an elevator?” he asked, glancing down at his leg.

 

“Oh yeah,” she said. “It’s also bonkers. Lemme put these inside and I’ll show you.”

 

He hadn’t a trouble with the old Otis manual elevator at all actually. That probably could have been her first clue if she’d known what to look for.

 

_

 

She wondered. Of course she wondered. Was it the army? Was it the battle of New York? Prosthetic and crutch aside, Daniel was obviously carrying _something_ on his shoulders. Some days he just seemed so…elsewhere.

 

They’d been in Central Park together, their first unofficial date, eating ice cream and holding hands and suddenly he had just…stopped, and stared at the skyline. She’d joined him because sometimes she forgot that she was living in New York City and just plowed through the neighborhoods like she didn’t have the time to be amazed by it all.

 

But then after the time stretched out she looked at him. There were lines in his forehead and something in his eyes like…like he was trying to memorize the buildings, trying to correct the view in front of him.

 

“Are you alright?” she asked. She was carrying things too and she didn’t want to press at places that she didn’t want pressed at either.

 

He looked at her, searched her face, studied her lips, and then blinked.

 

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

 

_

 

The second time the phone rang was a few days after the first call. Daniel had her squeezed to his side in bed and he was patting her shoulder softly with his hand.

 

“Mmph.”

 

“Darce. Phone.”

 

“S’not real.”

 

“Phone. Phone ringing,” Daniel said, nudging her shoulder. Darcy ignored him even as the phone blared for the fifth time. “I’ll get it,” he said, and started to shift.

 

“Ugh,” Darcy said, and rolled out from under the covers. She wasn’t going to say so cause he wouldn’t want her thinking it, but she didn’t want him to have to limp out to the living room with his crutch while he was half-asleep.

 

“Darce, you’re naked,” he hissed as she shuffled out into the hall.

 

“Well I’m not turning the lights on,” she grumbled. She doubted anyone had the lucky timing to be looking in her living room windows at all of three o’clock in the morning.

 

“Hello?” she snarled into the receiver.

 

This time it wasn’t static. There was an intake of breath at the other end of the line.

 

“Hello? Who is this?”

 

It was quiet and Darcy wasn’t even sure if she was imagining the faint exhale. All she knew was that she was _naked_ and there was someone breathing over her phone line and in any 1990’s teen movie that meant someone was looking in her window. So she slammed down the phone and ran back to bed where Daniel was barely managing to keep his eyes open.

 

“Whossit?” he asked.

 

“No one,” Darcy whispered and then she burrowed close against his skin.

 

_

 

Before they slept together Darcy had the sense to ask, “Hey…you’re sticking around for awhile, right?”

 

After all, he’d shown up at the apartment building with a duffle bag, and while he kept the little studio clean, it wasn’t super…lived in. After she’d invited him down for dinner the first time they’d just sort of…fallen in together. He was friendly, he had a dimple on his chin, and he managed the careful balance of being a gentleman without being patronizing.

 

The question seemed to puzzle him, or maybe it was just taking him a minute to gather his thoughts since she asked it after kissing him back into the arm of her couch and sliding his hands up inside of her t-shirt.

 

“As far as I know I’ve got nowhere else to be,” he said, and then he grinned and the smile reached his eyes and she was _gone_ for him.

 

It was just so easy not to hear what was missing in those words.

 

_

 

Sometimes at night he would wake up from a dream, and sit up in bed, and run his hand up and down her back, big palm covering her spine.

 

“Nightmares?” she asked once.

 

“Weird dreams,” he said. “Like…like some other place. Other people. Just remembering where I am.”

 

So she rolled over and tugged him down to lay against her, and helped remind him.

 

_

 

The calls came, and came, and came, all month. Sometimes in the morning while Daniel was running across the street to grab them breakfast and she would ask ‘Hello?’ over and over again as she watched him from her window. Sometimes while she was cooking, and she would pick up the receiver and hang it back up again, heart pounding. Sometimes at night, while Daniel was inside her, kissing at her neck, and she would hold on tight to him and squeeze her eyes shut and they would ignore the insistent sound until it stopped again.

 

_

 

On Halloween the phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Daniel was walking into the building at the same time as her and they could both hear the clanging from the first floor hallway.

 

Darcy spun in step. “Let’s make pasta at your place tonight.”

 

Daniel was squinting at her door, and then back at her. “I don’t have pots. What’s wrong?”

 

“It’s nothing. Change of scenery,” Darcy said, trying to step back down the hall to the old elevator that she invariably ignored unless Daniel was there to tame it for her.

 

He plucked her keys off her fingers where she’d had them ready and passed her with quick steps.

 

“I’m just so sick of the sound!” Darcy said.

 

Daniel paused, key in the lock and frowned back at her and she felt a sudden burst of exhaustion as tears welled up in her eyes.

 

“It keeps ringing and ringing,” Darcy said, breath hiccuping. “And I swear to god, there’s someone on the line but they won’t _say_ anything and I’m so sick of it!”

 

The phone was still going, blaring loudly as Daniel opened the door and hurried into the apartment, Darcy rushing to catch up with him.

 

“Hello?” he snapped into the receiver. “Who’s calling?”

 

“Daniel? Is that you?”

 

The voice was tinny but everything else in the apartment was silent and still and Darcy almost dropped the groceries to the floor. Daniel’s face went white and he stared straight ahead at the cream and mint striped wallpaper.

 

“Daniel? It’s Peggy. Is that you?”

 

Darcy felt her stomach turn over as he answered, “Yes. Yes it’s me. I…I’d forgotten.”

 

“Howard got it all wrong, Daniel,” the voice on the line said and Daniel wiped a hand down his face.

 

Darcy excused herself to the kitchen, heart crashing down to her toes, and even further.

 

_

 

He didn’t leave right away. They had a few more days together. Days where Darcy learned everything about who Daniel Sousa really was and where it became painfully clear all the questions she had failed to ask him while they were together. Days saying goodbye.

 

Darcy was joining Tony in the Howard Stark Is To Blame For My Emotional Injury club. It wasn’t Daniel’s fault his memory was scrambled in the time leap. Darcy never thought she’d say this but…Tony really was a good scientist. He found the flaw in Howard’s work right away and it had taken Jane all of two days to sort out how to send Daniel back. And the two days might have been generous stalling, a gift from a friend.

 

But on the third day he kissed her goodbye in the center of the lab and pulled away, lips parted, at the edge of saying something- asking to stay maybe, or asking her to come. But then his mouth shut and she stepped back and Jane set the machines whirring. And less than a minute later Daniel Sousa was gone.

 

That night the phone in the apartment rang. She was out of bed and running down the hall before she’d even really finished waking up, eyes sore and puffy from crying.

 

“Hello?” She was catching her breath, the sound echoing over the line. “Hello?”

 

She waited, held her breath until her chest burned, and heard a quiet puff of air, a sigh. She tried to swallow and couldn’t manage.

 

“I miss you too,” she whispered. There was a long quiet, another shaky breath, harder this time, and then the line clicked dead.


	15. 15. Wintershock - G for ibelieveinturtles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Pretty sure this bed frame from the flea market is haunted, but damn is the ghost good looking.’ For cycling-lane on tumblr  
> Darcy Lewis/Bucky Barnes

'Pretty sure this bed frame from the flea market is haunted, but damn is the ghost good looking.’ For cycling-lane

 

It had been all about the four posters. Darcy had seen them rising up into the sky amidst the crowd at the flea market, the dark finish a little scuffed and a few of the twisting vines chipped. But it was a gorgeous behemoth of a bed frame and she didn’t care what anyone said about a young woman living alone. She wanted a King size bed. She could stretch.

 

She’d had to bribe Thor with pizza to help her move it into her apartment. And she had to straight up _pay_ his sneaky little brother to help.

 

But it had been worth it in the end. After selling her soul for the nicest mattress she could afford, and nearly breaking her neck hanging curtains from the beams. It had all been worth it to collapse into her quilts and her nest of pillows, surrounded in perfect, velvet dark and fall softly to sleep.

 

“Never seen a mess like this in a bed before, doll.”

 

Darcy was on her side, suddenly awake, staring into eyes the color of incense smoke and a blue white face in the dark. But that couldn’t be right. Because there was no light to shine inside the shelter of her bed.

 

It was very cold.

 

And the man, who was also laying on his side facing her, noses nearly brushing, was very handsome.

 

“Who the fuck are you?” Darcy whispered.

 

“Name’s Bucky,” he said, pillowy lips quirking up at the corners. “You got a mouth on you.”

 

“And eyes and ears and a nose,” she said.

 

He looked farther down the bed and Darcy pulled the sheet up to her chin.

 

“You’re in my bed,” she said.

 

“It was mine first,” he said.

 

“Well. It’s mine now.”

 

“I’m afraid we’re sort of a package deal,” he said. “But don’t worry. I can’t touch. Just go back to sleep, I won’t bother you.”

 

Darcy frowned and the shining bright face with the dark hair flopping onto her pillow and the adorably dimpled chin just smiled.

 

She shut her eyes, only to test the waters, and fell right back to sleep.

 

It _could_ have just been a very odd dream. That’s what Darcy told herself the next morning. And after three uninterrupted nights she believed it.

 

“Hey, doll,” he said, as she rolled over in bed a week later.

 

“Oh, boooo, you again,” she groaned.

 

“You think you just find well loved four poster beds at flea markets for a steal because you’re _lucky_?” he asked with a scoff.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean!”

 

“It’s haunted,” he said, raising his eyebrows. He shifted, propping his head up on his palm. Except that his arm didn’t make any indentation in her pillow.

 

She swallowed, hard, and he nodded.

 

“You’re a _ghost_?” she whispered up at the softly glowing man wearing a pair of pinstriped pajamas in her vintage four poster bed.

 

“Sorry, doll, you drew the short straw on this one,” he said.

 

“But you’re so…pretty,” she said.

 

He grinned and Darcy realized how colorless he really was when it was clear by the crinkle at his eyes and the way he flicked his tongue across his bottom lip that he should have been blushing.

 

“You’re a sight yourself,” he said glancing down at her.

 

“Cuuute,” Darcy said, and this time she let the sheet stay where it was. “And you can’t touch?”

 

Bucky blinked as she reached her hands back behind her head, the tank top she was wearing shifting around the low collar.

 

“No,” he said slowly. “I musta done something awful when I was alive.”

 

She giggled at this. “Well I guess if you’re just gonna lay there looking all handsome and non-threatening, you can stay.”

 

His eyes widened at that. “Really? You ain’t gonna toss the bed to get rid of me?”

 

“Pffft. I’d get an exorcism if anything. No _way_ I’m tossing this bed, even if it does come with an unexpected resident,” she said.

 

“Ohh no,” he said. “Had a fella back in the seventies who tried that. He didn’t like that his guests found me easier on the eyes.”

 

“Mhmm?” Darcy said snuggling into her pillow and resisting the urge to fall back asleep. “Tell me all about your ghostly escapades in this bed. I love a naughty bed time story.”

 

Bucky’s mouth fell open for a moment, and Darcy thought his eyes almost flashed a clear and sharp blue, before he grinned slow and wicked. He shifted silently in her sheets until the chill of him was all along her front.

 

“Doll, I’ve got tales to curl your toes for days.”


	16. 16. Taserbite - T for paranoidwino

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 16\. “…So when you say you’re a succubus…that means?” for paranoidwino  
> Darcy Lewis/Natasha Romanov

“…So when you say you’re a succubus…that means?”  


 

“Would you like a demonstration?” Natasha suggested.

 

“I…I mean,” Darcy stuttered.

 

Natasha’s eyes narrowed and the corner of her mouth curled up. “I can ask for an aide,” she said.

 

“No! No, it’s…I mean…it’s safe right?”

 

“Of course.” Her eyes flashed down to her lap and her lips pursed and Darcy could have kicked herself. Of course it was safe. Natasha would never risk hurting her. That had never been a question.

 

“Okay. Are they going to be watching us?” Darcy asked, nodding at the team of nurses and doctors hovering outside of the room.

 

Natasha arched a fine eyebrow. “Not if you close the door.”

 

“Ooohhh look who’s still got her sense of humor with a bullet hole in the leg,” Darcy said, glancing down at the tight bandage wrapped around Natasha’s left thigh.

 

She went to swing the door shut on the med wing hall and rolled her eyes at the two male nurses who groaned in disappointment as the lock clicked shut. When she turned to face Natasha again she couldn't make her feet move. It wasn't that she didn't want to kiss Natasha. It was the opposite of that. And it was that this was something they hadn't worked up to yet, only danced around and joked about.

 

So color her surprised to find out that the Black Widow’s seduction skills came biologically.

 

“You don't need to stay, kotenok,” she said from her seat on the hospital bed.

 

Darcy’s steps tripped forward. “I’m not scared of you.” The words were a little defensive and Natasha’s head lifted, smirk blooming. “Well. I am _respectfully_ scared of you, ‘cause you’re a badass of course. But I know I'm safe. I’m just…worried about not…being enough.”

 

“Not an issue,” Natasha said firmly.

 

“Isn’t super soldier chi better?”

 

Natasha’s nose wrinkled. “Steve’s a terrible kisser.”

 

“Aww, I’m telling him you said-”

 

Natasha tugged her forward by the buttons of her flannel, slotting their lips together, Darcy’s words mumbling into the kiss. She pulled away before Darcy had the chance to answer the gentle tug and caress.

 

“See?” Natasha asked. “First kiss over.”

 

Darcy blinked. “Did you put the whammy on me?” She felt normal. A little bubbly from the salt flavor now lining her lips, but not dazed and drugged like the doctors had described.

 

“Do I need to? I was under the impression you were already attracted to me.”

 

“Oh! Well, yeah. Duh.”

 

Natasha smiled, just a tiny softening of her expression. “I’ll take a little energy, just enough to heal. We can play with my whammy in private later.”

 

Darcy snorted and pressed a finger to Natasha’s cheek where it wrestled against a grin.

 

“Come sit next to me,” Natasha coaxed. Darcy crawled up on to the mattress and folded her legs up underneath her. “You’ll be a little tired. We can nap here together.”

 

“Sounds cute,” Darcy said watching Natasha's hand settle over the threadbare fabric of her leggings on her thigh.

 

“And then when the doctors have cleared me I will come with you to your suite and you can choose our pizza toppings and two horror movies for cuddling background noise.”

 

“I feel like I'm getting a pretty sweet deal for kissing you,” Darcy said. On a personal dare she reached up and slid a strand of soft hair between her thumb and forefinger before tucking it behind Natasha's ear.

 

“I'm very grateful,” Natasha murmured.

 

Their noses bumped softly and Darcy wondered if she imagined the soft flush flooding the other woman's cheeks. Breath stroked against her mouth and then they were kissing, strong thin fingers sliding up her shoulders to the back of her neck.

 

There was a tugging somewhere just below her lungs, and a heat blooming like a sunburn from Natasha’s lips. Darcy felt weightless with the first draw from her mouth, and then heavy and sinking like an anchor with the second. Natasha arched over her as she collapsed back to the mattress, little sparks of starlight zipping across her skin.

 

Natasha purred into the kiss and Darcy shuddered as the vibration seemed to build and roll through her.

 

She couldn't wait to try out the whammy.


	17. 17. Taserwings - T for hollyspacey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 17\. ‘Just stay here where it’s safe, I’ll be right back.’
> 
> ‘Are you insane?! Have you never seen a zombie movie before?!’ taserwings for Hollyspacey  
> Darcy Lewis/Sam Wilson

 

 

“Just stay here where it’s safe, I’ll be right back,” Sam whispered, as they both froze at the sound of a thunk and a scuttle outside the old cabin safehouse.

  
“Are you insane?!” Darcy hissed. “Have you never seen a zombie movie before?!”

 

“Darce, I think we can safely say it’s not a zombie,” Sam said, pausing in step. Darcy hand her hands fisted in the back of his t-shirt and he could feel her toes bumping up against his heels.

 

“Umm… before New Mexico I could safely say I was never going to see a killer robot from outer space,” Darcy said. “Now that’s something my college friends regularly use against me in Never Have I Ever.”

 

Sam sighed. She had a point. “Okay. You can check the perimeter _with_ me. But you stay _close,_ okay?”

 

“Yeah, yes, I will stay close. That was my idea, remember? Me, staying close to you.”

 

They paused at the door.

 

“Not like _that_ ,” she added and he hushed her.

 

He shouldered her back behind him as he readied to open the door, gun pointed down. She had her taser out at her side which Sam remembered Steve asking him to make sure was _not_ packed before smuggling her out of the compromised science symposium. (‘She tends to create…incidents,’ Steve had warned him with a grimace. ‘And it’s better to keep her separated from Jane when they get in trouble or they’ll sneak out and try to deal with the situation on their own.’ Darcy had told him that ‘try’ was actually ‘would’, as in they had been successful several times much to SHIELD’s annoyance.) But in this case he didn’t mind so much the civilian on his six being armed. After they figured out that the noise was caused by a raccoon or rabbit? Well, then he’d have to figure out the fastest way to get it off her.

 

The door swung open and Sam edged around the corner, staring into the crooked shadows of trees and underbrush crowding the clearing around the cabin. Darcy was breathing softly against his back, one fist still squeezing the fabric of his shirt but she followed close and slow as he stepped out of the doorway. When he turned back to glance at her, and gesture to the north side of the building where they’d heard the noises, she kept her eyes focused on the darkness surrounding them but nodded at his lead.

 

Actually. As civilians went, she was pretty good. As _teammates_ went he’d dealt with less cooperative. Regularly.

 

Steve. He’d dealt with Steve.

 

Darcy kept her grip at his waist but twisted to watch behind them as Sam moved silently forward. There was a bright shatter of glass breaking from the side of the house and a low groaning sound. Sam reached back to pull Darcy closer. For her sake. Not his.

 

“Sounds like a zombie,” she breathed, barely audible.

 

He opened his mouth to say ‘No. No it didn’t.’ Except that it _did_ and there was an awful smell in the air, like the shit he used to pull out of the back of the fridge during college days.

 

“Head shot,” she said, very very softly.

 

He was really looking forward to proving to her that whatever was fucking shit up outside of the cabin was _not_ in fact, a zombie. He really didn’t _like_ the whole zombie trend. He didn’t have a survival plan. He didn’t watch the shows. He did know the head shot thing though.

 

They paused together at the corner of the house. Darcy took a long, last careful scan of the dark before nodding to him.

 

They rounded the edge just in time to see a human shape dragging itself up into the window ledge.

 

“Put your hands up, asshole,” Sam said.

 

“Kill it, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Darcy said from his side, letting go of his t-shirt in favor of dragging her own up over her nose.

 

There was another groan, low and raspy, and the figure dropped down from the window sill, shuffling to face them. Sam raised his gun and then a brilliant, white, crackling thread crossed the space between them. For a moment all Sam really saw clearly was a necrotic white gaze, and a gruesomely unhinged jaw bone.

 

“Oh shit, oh shit,” Darcy screamed as the figure seized and trembled but staggered towards them. “Head shot!”

 

The gun fired twice, sharp and loud, and Darcy jumped with each shot but stayed close. The body crumpled to the ground with an angry hiss and a horrible cloud of decay.

 

“I fucking called it,” Darcy breathed in the answering quiet.

 

“You did,” he allowed. Because that was definitely a zombie at their feet. “How screwed are we, right now, in your opinion?”

 

“Umm…” Darcy was staring down at the pile of clothing and rotting flesh.

 

He holstered his gun and turned her in place forcing her to stare up at him. Her eyes were a little dilated and he could feel her shaking in her shoulders. He was shaking too though, so, fair.

 

“Gimme what you know here, Darce. I’m shit on zombies. You’re the expert,” he said.

 

“If there are more, the gunshot will have drawn them,” she said, blinking quickly behind her glasses.

 

“How likely is it that there are more?” he asked.

 

“How close are we to a government testing facility?” she asked.

 

“Ten miles.”

 

“There’s definitely more. We should get to the car and move,” she said. Her hand slipped into his and they hurried to the back door. She paused and grabbed an axe down from over the wood pile. “Since my taser doesn’t work on them,” she said as explanation.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “I’m good with you arming yourself. So long as I don’t become fodder.”

 

“Don’t let me trip and fall on any tree roots and get dragged away by the undead hordes and you’ve got yourself a deal,” she said.

 

“You’re not so bad as a mission partner, Darcy,” Sam said as she wasted no time inside grabbing her go bag and then proceeded to dig out several of the guns and boxes of ammunition he thought he’d done a decent job of hiding from her.

 

She grinned at him and passed him a bag of weapons. “You’re catching on faster than the usual sunglasses-with-their-asshats they assign me, I’ll give you that. Now, let’s hit the road and call our current favorite flavor of shady government agencies, yeah?”

 

Somehow he always ended up with the bossy shit-stirrers, Sam thought with a sigh. At least this one was pretty and liked holding his hand while they ran to the car, eyes on the dangerous dark surrounding them.


	18. 18. Wintershock - T for zephrbabe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 18\. ‘Are you a witch? Cause I am enchanted.’  
> 'That’s a terrible pick up line.’  
> 'What? No. I’m enchanted. Like, literally, I’m under a curse. Can you help?’ wintershock for zephrbabe  
> Darcy Lewis/Bucky Barnes

 

 

Darcy was sipping on her black cat martini trying to decide if she was going to give her new velvet dress a spin on the dance floor, when six feet of muscle and scruff and one of Dr. Zolastein’s robotic arms came sidling up to her at the bar.

 

“Are you a witch?” he muttered under his breath in her ear. “‘Cause I am enchanted.”

 

Darcy’s eyebrows raised and she stared down into her purple drink for a long moment before turning her barstool to face him. He was shuffling in place and casting nervous glances around the bar.

 

“That’s a terrible pick up line,” Darcy said.

 

His head shot up, stunned and he stared back at her, eyes a compelling shade of moon blue. “What? No.” His head started to shake side to side nervously. “Like, literally, I’m under a curse. Can you help?” he whispered. “I’m a werewolf.”

 

“Ohhhhhh.” Darcy giggled and felt her cheeks heat up. “Sorry, my mistake. Umm, sure. Have you tried staking iron nails through your hands?”

 

“Unfortunately yes,” he said, raising his hands. The flesh one was lightly scarred in the center. The metal was spotless.

 

“Well good, because I didn’t want to try that one,” Darcy said with a shrug. “So, who got you? Was it Wanda? She has rough days, don’t take it personally.”

 

“Hydra,” he whispered.

 

“Oh shit.” Darcy nodded and reached out to pat at the human shoulder. It was a nice shoulder. She might have let her hand linger. But he leaned in so he didn’t seem to mind. “What’d you do? Stand her up? Leave in the middle of the night?” She winked.

 

“I pulled through into the parking spot she wanted at the grocery store,” he mumbled.

 

“Awww dick move.” She shrugged and brushed her hair back over her shoulder, grateful for the way he was eyeing her skin hungrily. Definitely a werewolf. He was totally thinking about marking her. And if he wasn’t a customer she might have let him. “Okay, so. What’s your full name?”

 

“James Buchanan Barnes,” he said. “But I prefer Bucky.”

 

“James Buchanan Barnes, James Buchanan Barnes, James _Buchanan_ Barnes,” Darcy trilled. She smiled at him. “How do you feel?”

 

“Confused?”

 

“Well it was a worth a shot.” She dug into her purse and pulled a slightly bent card out. _Darcy Lewis - Unenchantress, Witch, Very Cute_. “My address is on the back. Come by on the full moon and we’ll see what I can do.”

 

“Is that safe for you?” he asked. He smiled down at the card and ran his thumb over her name.

 

Darcy grinned and leaned forward to leave violet lipstick on his cheek. “You’re sweet to worry.”

 

_

 

The moon rose two weeks later and Darcy stood in her backyard, gray and brown werewolf facing her, teeth bared as it snarled softly.

 

“You’ve been a very _bad_ werewolf!” Darcy snapped, finger pointed accusingly between it’s eyes. The growl deepened and Darcy barked back, “You _pissed_ on my carpet.”

 

He really hadn’t. But it did the trick, the soft ears twitchedand the head cocked slightly.

 

“You ate my throw pillows!” Darcy yelled. The snarl faded and the downy brow furrowed. “ _You_ kept me up _all_ night, howling at…at…bats!!”

 

Bucky’s little wolf head flinched slightly at that.

 

“That’s right! You can’t catch bats! You can’t even fly! _What were you thinking??_ And don’t even get me started on how you’ve treated my begonias! They didn’t need your fertilizer, you mangy old mutt!!”

 

Bucky whimpered at that and shuffled down onto his belly, gazing up at her with those husky dog blue eyes of his, snuffling at the ground apologetically.

 

Darcy took a deep breath and stood up straighter. “Okaaaay. Well…okay. I feel sort of bad now.” Darcy stepped carefully up to Bucky the werewolf. But he only gazed up at her, sniffing softly at her hand and scooting forward on his belly as she knelt down in front of him.

 

“Good boy,” she said, scratching behind his ears. His back leg thumped against the ground happily. “Good boy, don’t be scared,” she soothed gently. Then she whipped a knife out of from the back of her skirt and whapped him on the head with the flat side. He yipped and looked up at her with startled eyes, but nothing changed.

 

Darcy sighed. “Sorry, Bucky. Guess you better come inside and stay the night. I was serious about the carpet though, you better lemme know if I need to…take you outside for a walk or whatever.”

 

_

 

Darcy woke up to sun shining and a warm, naked man spread over her covers, his head nestling into her lap sleepily.

 

“So….” she started. Bucky’s head perked up, eyes heavy lidded and squinting. He looked down at himself, but then back up at her without seeming very bothered. “You’re still a werewolf,” she said. “But you’re a _tame_ werewolf.”

 

“Yeah,” he said, voice raspy with sleep in a way that made Darcy turn warm in the belly. “Yeah, I definitely felt clear-headed.”

 

He was staring at the stretched collar of her nightgown hungrily. Right. She had changed in front of him last night. While he’d been a _clear-headed_ werewolf.

 

“I have one more idea,” she said. “But ethically speaking, you couldn’t really be my customer.”

 

“Was I paying you?” he asked, genuinely surprised.

 

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Apparently not. Okay so…the oldest cure that we know of is to exhaust the werewolf with extended…physical activity.”

 

“Like running?” Bucky asked and Darcy noted the way his head tilted at just the same angle as the wolf’s.

 

“Sure. Sure. Running would work.”

 

There was a stretch of silence. Darcy looked down the bare length of him and then back to his face, raising her eyebrows. Then he raised his eyebrows and looked at her in her nightdress.

 

“Oh,” he said, and a tiny little smile started to grow on his face. “Is this a…one time prescription?”

 

“No, it’d be fairly long term,” Darcy said. The blankets were starting to pull back from her lap and she found his fingers as the culprits, slowly gathering the fabric under his grip.

 

“It sounds like the most…beneficial remedy you’ve suggested yet,” Bucky said, voice turning to gravel as he sat up on his knees and started to prowl up to the head of the bed.

 

“I’m very thorough,” Darcy whispered, kicking the blankets back.

 

“So am I,” Bucky said, grinning.


	19. 19. Quicktaser - T for dresupi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 19\. in the dark- 'Your hand is really cold.’  
> ’…I’m not holding your hand.’ For dresupi  
> Darcy Lewis/Pietro Maximoff

 

 

“Are you scared?”

 

Pietro’s voice was hollow in the dark cave, bouncing around the craggy walls as Darcy listened to Jane’s magnetic monitors humming in the humid air.

 

“Are _you_ scared?” she parried back. Of course she was scared. It was dark and wet down here and she wasn’t allowed any electronics but the ones that were sending energy waves deep into the core of the earth and reading how they bounced back out into space.

 

“I was just asking,” he said, a little pout in his voice.

 

The monitor beeped near her feet. The waves were on their way back out.

 

“Your hand is very cold,” Pietro said.

 

Darcy thought she might have swallowed her tongue in the silence that followed, she had such a hard time finding a breath to draw in.

 

“Pietro,” she whispered. He ‘hmm’ed. “…I’m not holding your hand.”

 

She heard a soft, wet skid, several feet away but the noise volleyed around the space until she couldn’t say for sure what direction it had come from.

 

“That isn’t funny,” Pietro said.

 

Darcy wasn’t laughing. “If you’re messing around,” she warned him, her heart pounding in her chest, blood rushing through her ears. She stomped her feet. “I’m not touching you. I’m over here.”

 

“Darcy,” he snapped, voice sharp and angry. She heard more wet shuffling. “Darcy.” This time his voice was breathy, anxious. “I can’t move.”

 

“I can hear you-”

 

“Darcy I can’t _run_ ,” Pietro said.

 

The machine at her feet beeped again. Earth’s crust. Space next.

 

Where was Pietro?

 

“Darcy-”

 

“I’m coming,” she said, scuffling along the ground until her toe tapped on familiar plastic. The cave wasn’t wide. If she could keep one foot touching Jane’s monitor while she circled and searched for Pietro and…and whatever giant leech or totally normal phenomenon he had mistaken for a hand…

 

“Just keep talking to me,” she said.

 

“It feels like there is someone next to me, Darcy, please,” Pietro hissed. “I can’t…I can’t move.”

 

“You have an arm free?” Darcy asked, windmilling her arms in the dark, waiting to smack into rock or something worse. “Just wave it around, okay? I’m gonna find you. Keep talking.”

 

“I volunteered for this, to come down here with you,” Pietro said, rapid and clipped as if he spoke faster she would find him sooner. The consonants bounced in the dark, hitting the rock walls like raindrops. “Wanted to impress you. Have an excuse to touch you.”

 

“That’s so cute, actually,” Darcy said. Her heart was hammering and she couldn’t tell if it anxiety or the little thrill of Pietro’s confession.

 

“Darcy,” there was a little whine in his voice.

 

“I hope you were planning on keeping your hands in appropriate places,” Darcy said, her own voice rising in pitch. “Cause this isn’t a very good first date. But it might have gotten you one if you were a gentleman-Oh!”

 

Pietro cursed in a deep gasping breath as Darcy’s fingers clutched into the fabric of his track suit and his own hand reached up to grasp at her arm. The machine beeped on the floor.

 

Darcy let her hand slide into Pietro’s, sweaty but humanly warm, as she stretched and grabbed onto the handle of the monitor.

 

“It let go,” Pietro breathed. “Darcy, it let go, whatever it was-”

 

“I have the monitor, get us out of here!” Darcy squealed the last word as Pietro bundled her against him so fast she felt her head bounce back and her neck strain.

 

There was a clatter of rock falling as Pietro zipped them up around a twisting incline of rock leading up out of the cave.

 

_

 

Jane was busy uploading the readings as Darcy tried to explain that, No. No. Just because the readings were accurate _did not mean_ that the project went well. Something had been _down there_ with them. Thor was paying attention at least.

 

“There are many ancient beings dwelling in the caves on Asgard,” he said with a slow nod. “They are spaces of slow change, often immune to death as we understand it.”

 

Darcy shivered and went to see how Pietro was doing with the small medical staff they’d brought along.

 

He was sitting in the back of the van with a bandage around his bicep where he’d scrapped it against the rock wall on their way out. He was twisting his wrist in front of him, as if he was looking for a stain or some evidence of the grip that had held him in place.

 

“That was a terrible first date,” Darcy said, and then winced and shook her head minutely, wishing she could rewind a minute.

 

Pietro looked up at her and smiled instead. “Awful,” he agreed. “Thank you koshn’ya,” he added. “For getting me out.”

 

“I was going to say the same to you,” Darcy said. “I don’t like the dark.”

 

“Neither do I, now,” Pietro said, half-smiling, half-grimacing. His eyes turned down to his arm again and he turned it over, brow furrowing.

 

“Is everything…okay? What did the doctors say?”

 

“It feels…” Pietro frowned, rolling his hand on his wrist. Then he blinked and shook his head. “It’s fine. The doctors say everything is fine.”

 

He didn’t look fine though, Darcy thought. He looked…slow, weighted there in the back of the van, shoulders drooping.

 

“Fine is okay,” she said, sitting down next to him and taking hold of his hand. The other one.

 

“Yeah,” he agreed, voice thin, wrist still turning this way and that as his eyes studied the skin until she too was looking for some sign. A bruise. A wet imprint. Anything. “It’s okay.”


	20. 20. Wintershock - T for sachertortes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20\. ‘I don’t think ghosts are supposed to feel solid.’  
> 'Not that I’m complaining, but I don’t think haunted house attendees are supposed to touch the ghosts.’ Wintershock for sachertortes  
> Darcy Lewis/Bucky Barnes

 

 

Darcy paused in the doorway of the next room and a man, or a robot, or a man-bot staggered up from some kind electric rigged chair that had red lights blinking and an ominous buzzing emanating from it. His left arm was built up with what looked like some modified armor from last spring’s Camelot and he was dressed in straps of black leather over his chest and dark cargo pants with combat boots.

 

“Uhhhhhhhhnnnnn,” he groaned around a black mouth guard. There was white stage make up applied liberally over every inch of bare skin aside from around his eyes, which were smeared with black.

 

“Not now ghost-bot,” Darcy said, trying to suppress the tremor in her voice. He was pretty scary, to be fair. She just really wasn’t in the mood.

 

“Uhhhhhhhhmmm.” The groan faded away thoughtfully and a pale hand reached up to grab the mouth guard as he spit it out. “Are you okay, Darcy?”

 

She stopped herself mid stride down the hall to move onto the next room and looked back in at the science experiment gone wrong…ghost-bot.

 

“Bucky?” she asked.

 

The metal arm creaked as he waved sheepishly back at her.

 

Huh. Bucky Barnes, a friend of a friend of a friend, who tended to sit on the opposite side of the house parties she attended but occasionally smiled at her from across the room as if to say ‘this isn’t really my scene either.’ Bucky Barnes with the man bun that seemed less provocative and more like the product of laziness or having grown up with too many sisters. Bucky Barnes, her campus crush, knew her name.

 

“Umm,” she stepped into the room and winced as a set of televisions to the right of her flared up with static and little green numbers running across black screens. “Have you seen Jane? I got separated from my group by Brock Rumlow.”

 

The campus theater department had rented out an old medical office building for this year’s haunted house fundraiser. And Jane, who was dating recent theatrical recruit Thor (who was friends with Steve on the football team (who was Bucky’s longstanding roommate)) had begged Darcy to come with her to see her boyfriend as the blood-crazed Viking (trapped in an office building, Darcy wondered) and then proceeded to show up to the event with another five of her science department friends. Leaving Darcy as an entirely unnecessary wheel for the night.

 

Bucky’s face darkened at the mention of Rumlow and while the expression might not have amounted to much out of makeup on his normally gentle face, as a ghost-bot it really sold as intimidating.

 

“She hasn’t made it here, but there’s about a million ways to go through the maze so,” Bucky shrugged and then grimaced as the armor pinched at his armpit. “You want me to walk you through and we can find her?”

 

“You don’t have to do that,” Darcy said, faster than she really meant to. She wondered if it would be alright if she just sat the rest of the night out in here with him. She could be the ghost-bots victim or something.

 

“No, seriously, there’s a bunch of back ways through,” he said. “Lemme just lock up here.”

 

He passed her smelling chalky from the make up and minty from…well she’d once snagged a warm arm chair that he’d vacated for beer pong and she was pretty sure the mint was just him. He held out his metal hand and Darcy looked down at it and then back up at him. He started to pull away so she wrapped her fingers around three of the metal digits and pale lips smiled back at her.

 

“Need my real hand for door handles,” he said.

 

She almost answered that she didn’t really _need_ to hold his hand, metal or not, but that seemed like a dumb thing to say. So instead she just followed him into a staged lab leading off from his cubicle, where a two-headed scientist cackled over steaming test tubes.

 

“Hey FitzSimmons,” Bucky said.

 

“Hey,” the answered brightly.

 

“That is not far off from reality,” Darcy murmured and watched Bucky’s cheek grin from behind his shoulder.

 

“Here’s backstage,” Bucky whispered at the next door, holding a finger to his lips. Darcy nodded and he led her into a dark, narrow hallway lined with dim lightsand little chalk signs on every doorway that read things like ‘dentist’s office’ and ‘live dolls’ and ‘scary clowns.’

 

“You know, Brock shouldn’t have done that,” Bucky whispered, pausing outside of the scary clowns room.

 

“Yeah I kind of figured,” Darcy answered, shrugging.

 

The black and white make ups were starting to smear around Bucky’s eyes, creasing at the corners as he smiled at her.

 

“I punched him in the nuts,” Darcy said and grinned as Bucky had to bury a snort behind his hand.

 

“Come on,” he said, turning the knob for the clowns. “We can ask Clint if he’s seen Jane.”

 

Even knowing it was Clint, swinging down a trapeze and cackling as he flipped in the air and landed in front of them in the doorway, it really didn’t help. Darcy screamed as a chest covered in fake blood, rotten looking teeth, and wild eyes loomed up close to her.

 

“Hey, man! Stage door, stage door,” Bucky snapped, stepping between them. Darcy wasn’t even embarrassed at the way she grabbed onto the leather at Bucky’s shoulders.

 

“Dude,” Clint groaned falling back, exagerated frown melding with the red one painted over his face. “I’m so bored. No one wants to come see a scary clown.”

 

“Gee, I wonder why,” Darcy muttered.

 

“Have you seen Jane? Rumlow split Darcy off from her group.”

 

“Low Blow Rumlow?” Clint scoffed. “What a dick. No, I haven’t but I some Jane like snorts from next door at the Mad Viking’s booth.”

 

“Thor, of course,” Darcy said.

 

“Cool, thanks. No more jump scares on fellow employees.”

 

“Pretty sure there’s a rule against holding hands with the attendants too, Buck.”

 

Bucky turned quickly, pushing Darcy back into the hall and shutting the door behind them. Darcy’s hands- which were not shaking, thank you very much, you were totally imagining that -were still digging into the straps of Bucky’s vest. She hadn’t really moved much when Bucky shut the door on Clint and they were pressed together in the hall, Darcy’s head tilted back to look up into Bucky’s face.

 

“You okay?” he asked.

 

She nodded. “Yeah…yeah. I don’t think ghosts are supposed to feel solid.”

 

One of Bucky’s hand, the not metal one, appeared at her back, soothing at her spine and rucking up her t-shirt. “Not that I’m complaining, but I don’t think haunted house attendees are supposed to touch the ghosts.”

 

“Huh,” Darcy said.

 

Bucky’s hand on her back pulled her closer, forcing her feet to shift around his to fit him against her hips. She swallowed, possibly audibly, and noted that this already felt better than anything she’d tried with Ian last spring.

 

“You okay?” he asked again.

 

“I am. You asked that,” she said, grinning.

 

He grinned back, the pink of his smile standing out against the white make up. “That’s right. Meant to do it after I did this,” he said. And then his hand skimmed up her back to cup her neck as he bent down and kissed her.

 

He tasted chalky like the make up but it didn’t stop her from rising up on her toes to wrap her arms over his shoulders and chase his lips. There was a metal arm digging into her back and she didn’t mind that either because of the way it felt when their hips dragged against each other.

 

“Still good,” Darcy said, when he pulled away.

 

“Same, same,” he said, sounding a little ragged. “You opposed to giving me your phone number? For further kissing reasons? Dates too. Lots of dates. Been trying to date you for almost a year.”

 

“Well you’re clearly learning the technique now,” Darcy said, and her smile almost hurt for how wide it was. She pulled her phone out and made herself a long desired contact for Bucky Barnes and sent him her number.

 

“You busy later?” he asked, squeezing her hand with his own. This time not the metal one. They’d worked out that she would open the next door.

 

“I am free unless this ghost-bot texts me to make plans,” Darcy said.

 

“Good, good. Here’s your stop, you know what to do.”

 

Darcy did know what to do. She drew Bucky down by his hair for one more nibbling kiss that had him groaning. And then she threw open the door to the Mad Viking’s booth.

 

“BOO MOTHERFUCKERS,” she shouted, slamming the door shut behind her.

 

She could just make out the sound of Bucky’s laughter under the sudden bellow of Thor’s surprise. Jane, as it turned out, had moved on again, but Darcy did manage to scare the crap out of some freshman.

 

“Why are you covered in stage make up?” Jane asked, blinking at her as Darcy finally made it to the exit and found Jane and her science crew waiting for her. “Did you make out with a ghost?”

 

“I did, yeah,” Darcy said. She pulled out her phone to show Jane the text invitation from Bucky to meet him and the others at the local 24-hour diner after midnight, and then to loiter and have breakfast there, and then to take a nap at his and Steve’s place and eat toaster waffle sandwiches for lunch, and then to go get dinner together after either another nap, some making out, a Netflix movie or any combination of the above.

 

“Oh my god,” Jane murmured at the screen. “He has no chill and it’s so cute.”

 

It was so cute.

 

Jane took the science bros back to campus and then she and Darcy drove out to the diner. Inside taking up seventy-five percent of the tables and booths was the entire cast of the haunted house—in various states of uncostumed—and all their extended company. Thor was sitting with FitzSimmons and had a spot reserved for Jane. Bucky was spread out across an entire bench of a booth, Natasha and Steve on the other side, Sam Wilson sitting backwards on a chair at the end. When he saw her, he jumped up and all the water glasses on the table rattled.Sam hid his face behind his hands, laughing.

 

“You made it,” Bucky said, sinking back into the booth and stretch his arm across the back.

 

Darcy took the invitation and leaned into his side. “Yeah…but I’ve got like three more dates lined up after this.” Bucky grinned back at her.

 

“Did you know you’ve got white handprints on your back?” Sam asked, eyebrow raised.


	21. 21. Taserlegion - T for dresupi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 21\. ’I just got a letter in the mail that said 'don’t forget to lock your doors this year’ and it’s in my handwriting. I don’t remember writing it.’  Taserlegion For dresupi  
> Darcy Lewis/David Haller

 

 

He folded the page in half again as steps shuffled through the hall. He’d lost track of the number of times he’d folded it. It was always just laying there, open on the table when he looked down again.

 

“Hey,” she said, hand running across his back as she entered the kitchen. She padded over to the fridge in a striped shirt that was too big for her and pulled out a carton of orange juice, drinking straight from the mouth with a sheepish glance back at him. She popped the door shut with her hip and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

 

Her name was Darcy. She’d been living with him for three months. She liked cartoons and stray cats and when they got each other off in the shower. ‘Cause it’s tidy,’ she’d said. He reminded himself of all of these things because he couldn’t quite remember _her_.

 

“What’s that?” she asked, sitting down across from him at the breakfast table and propping her feet up in his lap. She nodded at the paper, open again, face up on the table.

 

“It’s a letter,” he said, folding it shut again. “It was in the mail.”

 

“A _letter_ ,” she asked, juice carton halfway to her lips. “How…anachronistic. You sure it wasn’t just an email you printed out?”

 

He slid the page across the table to her. It was open again.

 

“‘Don’t forget to lock your doors this year,’” she read aloud. Her nose wrinkled at the end. Oh yeah, he liked when she did that. “Ewww. How creepy. I’m guessing weird anonymous notes don’t come with return addresses?”

 

Had there been an envelope? “It’s my handwriting,” he said.

 

“Oh,” she said, head tilting to the side, pile of hair atop her head tilting further. “Did you get pranked last Halloween?”

 

“It’s Halloween,” he said. He tried not to make it sound like a question but she snorted and shook her head. Her feet lifted off his lap as she got up to hunt through the cupboards behind him.

 

She was a fidgerter. He knew that about her too.

 

“David,” she said, urgent and soft. She was directly by his right side, blue eyes stark and wide behind the frames of her glasses. “David, you’re forgetting again, aren’t you?”

 

“No, no, I’m fine,” he said. He tried to smile and wave it away. She looked different up close. Suddenly serious and sharply focused, not breezing through his kitchen in his shirt and bare feet. She was wearing plaid now? Had he gotten it wrong before?

 

“David,” she pressed. “What are you locking out? What needs to be locked out?”

 

“It’s not- It’s just…It’s a Halloween prank,” he said, looking down at the writing. That was his ‘f’ that looked like an ‘h.’ He _knew_ that.

 

There was a soft snort from behind and then she was leaning against his side. His left side. Thigh bare against his arm. His striped shirt on.

 

“A prank from yourself?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Hey, do you mind if I snag the first shower?”

 

“Go…go ahead.” The skin was warm against his arm but it didn’t _feel_ familiar. It was soft, she smelled like his bed, but she didn’t seem…

 

“David.”

 

He jumped. She was standing at the sink. In plaid. In jeans. Glasses on.

 

“How the hell are you doing-”

 

“David. _Why are you going to lock your door_?” she pressed, hands gripped around the countertop, knuckles white.

 

“So he can’t get in! So I can’t forget!” David yelled, standing up from the table, chair rattling on the floor behind him.

 

Her shoulders softened and David blinked. That was familiar that was… she was…

 

“Good,” she sighed. She pushed off the counter and met him by the table. She smelled right. She smelled like his bed and like lemonade. “Lock your doors, David. I’ll be there, okay? I’ll be there when you get out.”

 

She was on her tip toes, lips at the corner of his mouth and all at once she was back to him. His eyes slammed shut to try and dig the memories out. Darcy, from the Tower. She’d found him a place to hide, for now. She smelled like lemonade and she tasted like coffee. He turned his head to find the flavor and there was nothing there.

 

“Hey, is everything okay down there?” she called from upstairs, from the shower.

 

“Talking to myself,” he shouted back and he listened to the giggle.

 

 _That_ was not Darcy.

 


	22. 22. Shieldshock - T for glynissi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 22.’Why does our apartment look like a dungeon?’  
> 'Bad dungeon or like…sexy dungeon?’ shieldshock for glynnisi  
> Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers

 

 

Steve stopped at the end of the hall before walking into the living room. He took one long look around the space, at the crumbling gray stone facade lining the walls, to the massive velvet curtains (color of dried blood) that hung in front of his floor to ceiling view of New York City, to the paper thin white cobwebs stretching across corners of the room, and then looked back behind him at the nice, normal entry hall.

 

“Darcy?” He called, trying to see past the bone chandelier hanging over their dining table and the rubber amputated hand holding a pile of candy in it’s palm on the coffee table by the couch.

 

“Hey, good looking!”

 

Darcy popped out from the kitchen wearing a black apron with the words ‘Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble’ in purple and orange glitter letters across the chest.

 

“Why does our apartment look like a dungeon?” Steve asked, sliding his training shield off his back to rest against the wall. But he thought better of it. It might get infected by the general ghoulishness that had spread across the decor since the morning.

 

“Bad dungeon or like…sexy dungeon?” Darcy asked, nibbling into her bottom lip. Her hair was pulled up and back and as she turned to look around them room he saw the bright plastic pumpkins at the top of her ponytail.

 

“I didn’t realize there were levels,” Steve said.

 

The impish expression she’d been wearing wilted as she looked between him and the ghostly, gothic decorations covering every surface.

 

“That’s true,” she said and Steve considered swinging the shield up to brain himself with it at the way her voice had shrunk. “It’s just…dollar store Halloween stuff. I got carried away, we can take it down. It’s just…October!” She said the last word with false brightness and skittered back into the kitchen.

 

He rubbed his hand over his face, the rough grip of his gloves scraping his skin as he grimaced. He’d done this to Tony the year before at the start of December, trampling over a month of holiday cheer with a little bit of poorly timed skepticism. Steve retreated to the bedroom to tear out of his uniform so he could make up his ‘crotchety old grandpa attitude’ up to Darcy before she tore down all her hard work from the day.

 

The bedroom had also seen the treatment although in this case Steve could more clearly see the argument for ‘sexy dungeon.’ There was more velvet, and black candlesticks, and dried flowers, and she’d rigged up a canopy around their bed that Steve did not mind the idea of hanging onto when he imagined finding Darcy laying in bed behind the curtains. For now though there was just a black paper bag with orange and green striped tissue pepper sticking out of it. He grinned when he pulled out a pair of silky men’s pajamas patterned to look like a black and white tuxedo. A thin slippery black cape was next, and a pair of fuzzy black slippers with bats on the toes. At the bottom of the bag were white plastic fangs that just barely fit onto Steve’s teeth.

 

He stripped out of his tac-suit, changed into the pajamas (which fit surprisingly well aside from being a little tight around the shoulders and thighs) and the rest of his gift, and put his uniform away where it wouldn’t interrupt the scene Darcy had set. He paused and stared at the prop shackles that stretched across their pillows and then grabbed those too as he padded out of the room and over to the kitchen.

 

Darcy was transferring sugar cookies off a pan and onto a pumpkin plate and Steve’s heart ached at the way the corners of her mouth curved down. He swooped in, arms stretched out to make the cape billow, and wrapped his arms around her back as she squeaked in surprise.

 

“Now I m’ever thaw Noferathu,” Steve lisped through plastic fangs, grinning and trying to keep them in his mouth as Darcy giggled in his arms. “But I fink iths thupposeth to go thomethink like thith.” He nuzzled against her neck, hands slipping under the apron to squeeze at her hips and pull them back against his. With a little bit of effort, and nearly swallowing the fangs, he managed to get a long, gentle bite into the side of her neck.

 

The gasp and excited squirm that followed were both a surprise and absolutely fascinating to Steve.

 

“You’re a dork!” Darcy giggled, but she rolled her hips back into his and her breath hiccuped as he growled and bit down harder in response.

 

He pulled back and let the fangs clatter to the floor. “You’re a dork,” he said, somewhat unimpressively. “And I love it. Sorry I came in like a grump. I feel like I have a lot of October appreciation to catch up on, huh?”

 

She relaxed in his arms as he pecked at her cheek, and then her neck as she stretched it for him.

 

“You’ll have a good teacher,” she said. “It’s my favorite month.”

 

“Oh yeah?” he asked. “Does my teacher want to explain to me what I’m supposed to do with these?”

 

He let the shackles roll out from where he’d held them in his elbow and lifted them to dangle in front of Darcy’s face. Her cheeks pinked but she didn’t shy away.

 

“You’re supposed to wear them,” Darcy said, eyebrows lifting. “So I can ravish you.”

 

Steve grinned. “Darcy I could break this chain in half a second.”

 

Her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed and it was an expression he was both familiar with and extremely fond of.

 

“But you won’t,” she said, twisting in his arms and cupping his face in her hands so she could rise up on her toes and kiss his chastely. “Not if you’re being very, very good for me.”

 

Steve blinked and Darcy grinned.

 

“I’m beginning to find this dungeon very sexy,” Steve said and then bent down to bite at the white skin of her neck as she threw her head back to laugh, and then to moan.


	23. 23. Irontaser - E for georgiagirlagain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 23\. 'That’s my candy. I went through a lot to get that.’  
> 'And then you left it unguarded. I’m holding it ransom.’ For georgiagirlagain  
> Darcy Lewis/ Tony Stark  
> This is nsfw!

 

 

“Lewis.” Tony was leaning in the doorway of her little corner (windows and everything!) office, arms folded over a band t-shirt that had been washed and worn into obscurity.

 

“Stark,” she answered, typing away at the department wide email regarding appropriate use of sticky notes.

 

“Oh, I don’t like that. Fine. Darcy,” Tony said, tone sweetening.

 

“Yes, Tony?” she said, hitting send and looking.

 

“Could you please send out one of your irreverent yet pertinent emails threatening whoever stole my halloween candy with a transfer to my New Jersey research team? I give them the worst jobs and everyone knows it.”

 

“I cannot,” Darcy said.

 

Tony frowned, glancing over the lenses of his glasses at her. “Why not? You love sending out spikey emails for me.”

 

“Because I know where your halloween candy is. I hid it.”

 

“Well hello there, Treachery,” Tony said. “That’s my candy. I went through a lot to get that.”

 

“And then you left it unguarded. I’m holding it for ransom,” Darcy said with a shrug.

 

“Ransom for what? I _said_ I’d upgrade old faithful.”

 

“Not my vibrator,” Darcy said in a hissing whisper, glancing at the open door to her office. “Good behavior.”

 

Tony’s grin was slow as he rocked forward and back on the balls of his feet. He reached one hand out and lazily flicked the door shut. “That can be arranged.”

 

Darcy groaned and thunked her head forward on the desk. “ _Not_ sexual favors, Tony.” She pushed forward a stack of papers that Tony had been ignoring in his lap for the last two months. “I’ll give back a piece of candy for every one of these signatures I need. You can start there.”

 

Tony’s lips twisted as he stared down at the papers and Darcy tried not to think about the way those lips had felt against her neck that morning as she’d been trying to make her way out of bed and off to work.

 

“What if I don’t agree to your terms?” Tony asked.

 

“You can’t set the terms of a ransom, Tony, we both know that painfully well.” She sighed and leaned back in her chair, propping her bare feet up on the desk so he could see up the length of her legs to her office appropriate pencil skirt. She added, “And if it came down to it I’m pretty sure how I could hold out longer than you.”

 

That was mostly a bluff. Tony doing the dishes was a _thing_ for her as much as him coming to bed naked was. She was a weak, weak woman.

 

Luckily Tony was weak too and didn’t seem to want to risk it. He snatched the papers up off the desk with a snarl that leaned towards a whine.

 

“Your candy will be waiting for you in the labs,” she said, feeling especially cool after her victory.

 

“I’m extremely unhappy with the way that Romanov is rubbing off on you,” Tony said as he left her office.

 

_

 

Darcy woke as the last soft edge of her orgasm started to melt away. Two fingers continued to pump softly inside of her ask she blinked and squirmed. A tickle of beard and stubble scratched over her bare collarbone and when she reached out to flick the light on she found a blurry Tony sitting up at her side, dropping kisses randomly across her breasts.

 

“Should I be concerned that you were moaning Bruce’s name in your sleep?” Tony asked.

 

Darcy blinked once at him and remembered her dream. “Bruce Wayne.”

 

“Ewww Batman? That’s so much worse,” Tony whined. His free hand nudged her legs apart and she watched him settle down between her thighs.

 

“It was a dream,” Darcy protested. “You started it!”

 

The bright grin was fuzzy without her glasses but the sight of Tony shimmying down to his belly between her legs was clear enough.

 

“Are you trying to get candy for oral?” Darcy asked, flopping back to her pillow with the first long lick. She bit down hard on the inside of her lip to bury the moan that wanted to escape. Sleep orgasms always left her fluttery and hungry for more.

 

“You said good behavior,” Tony said. He licked another stripe up the slit of her sex and Darcy turned her head to press her cheek against the cool fabric of her pillow and whimpered a little. “And my oral is excellent.”

 

“You got fifteen pieces today,” Darcy said, and the words were all air. Her fingers dug into the sheets. “I know you don’t eat candy that fast.”

 

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Tony said against her sensitive skin. The vibrations of his voice and the squirm of his lips on her pussy made her squeal.

 

“Fiiine,” she groaned and she pushed herself against his face, begging for friction. “You can have a piece of candy for every orgasm. Happy?”

 

“Mmmm,” Tony hummed and drew back long enough to say, “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”

 

Before could question that motivation Tony was nuzzling his face into her core, tongue lapping at her entrance one moment before his lips wandered, sucking and pulling and pressing at every inch of her. He moved from her center to her clit to the joint of her thigh without any real pattern, always getting Darcy just to the point of a breathy squeak before moving away. He rubbed his lips over her clit and purred and Darcy’s hands shot off the bed and into his hair.

 

“Jesus, Tony, get with it,” she begged. “Oh god!”

 

His tongue pressed inside her once, twice, a third time before pointing hard and traveling straight up to lash at her clit until her whole body vibrated with tension.

 

“Fingers, fingers, please,” she whispered, wanting something to bear down on, to squeeze tight around.

 

Tony shook his head against her and Darcy came apart with a broken wail, voice whining as the sudden burst of pleasure burnt down her legs and up into her chest. Tony sat up and covered her with the whole of his hand, rubbing gently.

 

“Why?” she asked, panting. “That was mean.”

 

“Cause I’ve got forty-two pieces of candy left to win back and I don’t want you to get sore,” Tony said and Darcy thought she could make out his tongue licking at the edges of his mouth to gather all the taste of her.

 

She giggled and let a hand fall over her face. “Tony not even you can get me off forty-two times before I have to go to work tomorrow morning.”

 

“I did the math and figured that out, thank you very much,” Tony said primly. “Which is why I gave the labs the day off tomorrow. Long weekend! I have till Monday.”

 

“Math?” Darcy asked. Had he been keeping some kind of record on how long it took her to orgasm? What was the average?

 

“Also, as much as you have to admit that my stamina _is_ impressive,” Tony continued. “Forty-two is a lot and I thought I might need some help.”

 

“Whoa! Help?”

 

Tony reached across her to her bedside table and opened the top drawer, pulling out… “I upgraded old faithful!”

 

Darcy’s eyes widened. Then she did some math of her own. An average of an orgasm roughly every two hours for the next seventy eight hours? She relaxed back onto her pillows.

 

“Okay, but if I say stop-”

 

“I’m enthusiastic not a mad _-_ scientist,” Tony said, scoffing. “So…me next or old faithful?”


	24. 24. Wintershock - M for huskies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 24\. ‘I don’t see why a couple of monsters can’t fall in love too.’ ‘Is that an offer?’ wintershock for huskiesfan-olicity-wintershock  
> Darcy Lewis/Bucky Barnes  
> some light elements of gore.

 

 

The first time her hands unburied him, it was from rubble.

 

He hadn’t even wanted to rise up out of the ash and rock and blood. But she was sitting above him, one eye drifting sideways with the skin around spreading in purple spiderweb patterns.

 

“There are still people out here,” she said.

 

So he’d lifted himself out of the remnants of an old stone church, one leg dragging behind as they limped their way to a nest of spiney creatures that chattered like crickets at night, a cluster of the invaders from the fight.

 

_

 

They had called it the Infinity War and perhaps no one, on any side, realized how true that would be.

 

Because he kept waking up again, her blue eyes cloudy but waiting for him, her hands crusted and scraped with the dirt of whatever hole they’d thrown him into.

 

_

 

Once they survived for three months. His real arm grew strong again, and his legs straight. Her cheeks started to pink and her eyes stopped trailing off to one side. Her voice filled up with tones instead of the soft croak he’d grown used to greeting him. But he liked her voice. He liked the way she used it.

 

He let himself be cut down at the backs of his legs when the men - dark eyed and glittering with glowing geometry shifting the world around them pouring out of their palms - slit her throat and left her on the ground.

 

He waited in a watery ditch for her to drag him out again.

 

_

 

Once he asked her why they wouldn’t die.

 

“Jane would know,” she said, but that was all.

 

_

 

He saw her ribs one day, as she shrugged out of a muck stained shirt, trying to hide herself from his view. They were clean and white, shining in the midst of torn flesh that curled and darkened like dried flower petals.

 

“I’m as much of a monster as they are,” she said.

 

“So am I,” he said. He had been one longer.

 

“Why do we fight them?” she asked.

 

He thought she knew. He fought them because she asked him to. “Because there are still people out there,” he said.

 

“Are there? I used to see them. Falling in love, trying to buy groceries, pretending the world wasn’t ending. I don’t anymore.”

 

“We’re still out here,” he said. Because now he didn’t want her to stop digging him out. And he didn’t know if he could do it himself. Her blue bruised fingers were so much stronger than his, he thought.

 

“I don’t see why a couple of monsters can’t fall in love too,” he said.

 

She smiled at him. Her eyes were all clouds now but they felt warm on his face. “Is that an offer?” she asked.

 

_

 

She didn’t take him up on it. Not right away. But she touched him when she wasn’t bringing him out of the earth. She held his hand at night, fingers thin and brittle and so strong around his. She fought harder when they piled against him, teeth tearing, spears piercing.

 

Once they survived for five months.

 

The next for eight.

 

_

 

Once they saw a family.

 

They had cleared a nest out of a neighborhood, had burnt the remnants away until there was nothing but charred metal and a soft tornado of ash carried away on the wind. They were checking the tunnels in the building, and they lifted a sewer grate to find a little boy peering up at them. He was green with muck and his eyes were pale. But he was alive. For the first time. He had survived for years. And so had his family, scavenging together, living in the steamy dark.

 

Bucky and Darcy retreated to the roof. Or to whatever story of the building had survived and now become the roof.

 

The sun was setting, bright stabs of red flooding into the gray clouds.

 

Darcy leaned against his side.

 

“I can fall in love,” she said.

 

He turned to look at her, the blue and gray patterns of death crowning her forehead, the swirling white clouds in her eyes, the purple creases of her lips.

 

“I am falling in love,” she said turning to look back at him.

 

_

 

Once she kissed him. Twice she kissed him. Three times she kissed him.

 

And again.

 

And again.


	25. 25. Scarletshock - G for paranoidwino

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘That is a fantastic _______ costume! I’ve always had a thing for ________.’ For paranoidwino  
> Darcy Lewis/Wanda Maximoff

 

 

“Ohmigod!” Darcy squealed and nearly dropped the bags of candy she was hauling back from her post-midnight sale scrounging. “That is a fantastic Scarlet Witch costume! I’ve always had a thing for Wanda.”

 

She could feel her cheeks heat up at the verbal diarrhea but shrugged and went with it. The girl was cute, sue her. And she _did_ look like the pictures of Wanda Maximoff Darcy had seen on the internet. Right down to the slightlyanxious, confused twist to her lips.

 

“I’m sorry,” the young woman said, glancing around them up and down the street. Uptown wasn’t so bad this time of night (or morning if Darcy was being honest), even on Halloween, and there weren’t a lot of people out. She frowned at Darcy. “I think you have me mistaken for…”

 

It was the accent that cued Darcy in, soft and a little breathy.

 

“Ohhhh you’re Wanda,” Darcy said, nodding slowly and wincing at her mistake. “Yeah. That was stupid of me. We’re right next to Avengers Tower, I should have realized.”

 

“We are close?” Wanda asked. “I thought I’d find my own way back above the crowds but…”

 

“The city is a grid but it’s easy to get lost out here,” Darcy said. “I understand. And yeah, it’s around the block, I’m walking back there now.”

 

“You’re Darcy,” Wanda said with sudden understanding, eyes lighting up and a small smile curling up her lips. “The team thinks very fondly of you.”

 

“Eeee!!” Darcy squealed and bounced in place on the sidewalk. “I totally knew it! They all act like I’m a nuisance but they secretly love me, don’t they?”

 

“Here, let me.” Red swirls of energy left Wanda’s palms and wrapped around the bags in Darcy’s arms, lifting gently. “They find you very charming. Steve in particular. You remind him of a friend’s sister he once knew.”

 

“Awwww ohmigod,” Darcy cooed. “That’s adorable. I’m gonna give him so many squishy presents for Christmas now. Thanks for helping me. I might have gone overboard on getting candy.”

 

Wanda shrugged and flicked her fingers to send the levitated bags ahead of them as they fell into step next to each other and started the walk home. “We’re going to the same place,” she said.

 

“We aaaare,” Darcy said. “You haven’t been to the Tower before have you? At least not when I’ve been there.”

 

“Not when you’ve been there, no,” Wanda said, and Darcy watched her cheeks pink a little.

 

“Well cool…sooo since I totally already spilled the beans about thinking you’re cute, the ball will kind of be in your court on whether or not you want to hang out with me while you’re in town,” Darcy said.

 

She watched her face, waiting for some kind of clue as to what Wanda might do with said ball being in her court. But the soft face was serene and keeping an eye on her energy ahead of them. Darcy chewed at her lip and tried not to trip over a subway grate.

 

“Well first I’ll have to walk you to your door,” Wanda said.

 

Darcy blinked and tried to bury her smile. “It’s a really long elevator ride,” she warned.

 

“Well we have candy to keep us from starving at least,” Wanda said shrugging, the candy ahead of them bouncing slightly at the mention. “I like your Cat Woman costume. She was always my favorite.”

 

Darcy swayed her hips in the shiny black body suit a little harder with each step until she could hear a soft giggle at her side.


	26. 26. Tasertorch - E for Janetsnakehole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 26\. ‘Trick or Treat.’ ‘Do I get to choose the treat?’ tasertorch for itsjanetsnakehole  
> Darcy Lewis/Johnny Storm  
> this is nsfw!

 

Johnny: Trick or Treat (pumpkin emoji)

 

 

Darcy: Do I get to choose the treat?

 

He hadn’t been one hundred percent sure how his efforts had gone with Darcy at Stark’s Halloween party over the weekend. She’d laughed when he failed to land a joke, wandered off midway through their heckling of the dj, and never once glanced at him out of the corner of her eye while dancing.

 

But this was a pretty promising response to what he’d really only meant as a holiday text. Well, a holiday text with the hope of opening a casual dialogue that might lead his way into a casual date or two.

 

Now he had Netflix and chill plans at Darcy’s apartment.

 

Maybe he’d landed those jokes better than he thought.

 

Darcy opened the door, dressed in a black t-shirt dress and black and white striped thigh highs. There was just a sliver of skin showing between the two and Johnny was immediately interested in dropping to his knees and licking along the line.

 

“Are you ready for this?” Darcy asked, eyes narrowed behind her glasses.

 

“So ready,” Johnny said, trying to stamp down the flare of heat in his palms.

 

“Awesome,” she said, grinning and stepping back from her door. “I was so bummed when everyone else cancelled. I dunno if I could’ve binged the whole thing by myself.”

 

“Uhhh…” Johnny stepped into the apartment, brain spinning.

 

“But it’s criminal to expect me to wait until the weekend when people aren’t ‘working’ to find out what happen to my bb Eleven,” Darcy continued, stopping by the kitchen to grab a giant bucket of popcorn and another of assorted chocolate candy. “It’s been over a year already. C’mon people! Who’s your fave? Mine is Dustin. He’s so emotionally stable.”

 

Stranger Things.

 

Johnny was here to watch Stranger Things. It’d been mentioned early on at the Halloween party and he’d agreed and then…probably forgot about it. Clearly, he had forgotten about it.

 

“Ya’ll are superheroes,” Darcy said with a sigh. She bent slightly to put the buckets on her coffee and Johnny gazed at the new peek of pale skin with the slightly disappointed realization that the stockings were not meant to be provocative, just festive. She faced him an added, “When do you ever get weekends off?”

 

“Pretty much never,” Johnny said finally after Darcy bounced down into her outrageously puffy turquoise couch. She put her feet up between the buckets and there were pumpkins on the soles of the socks. Johnny went to join her and decided not to mention that he’d skipped out on dealing with doom bots in midtown. The team would be fine without him anyways.

 

_

 

They were five episodes in, the popcorn was down to kernels and there were candy wrappers scattered across the table. Darcy had shifted from sitting next to him, to leaning against him, to the both of them laying down the length of the couch with her half on top of him.

 

There had been a moment earlier where Johnny realized that he was touching the skin of Darcy’s thigh between the hem of her dress and top of her socks. But then a monster had burst into the scene, his hands had squeezed on the backs of her thighs, and Darcy had jumped and dug her chin into his shoulder, wincing at the screen.

 

But now she was wiggling over him, reaching out to the remote on the coffee table, legs straddling his hips.

 

“What- what’re you doing?” Johnny asked, trying to ignore the feel of her in his lap, or the fact that the dress had ridden up so that it was just covering her and there was whole new landscape of blue white skin to appreciate in the dark.

 

Darcy paused the auto play and stretched to put the remote back down. Johnny swallowed as her dress shifted and he saw just a sliver of candy corn striped cotton underwear.

 

“How do you feel about a sex break?”

 

“Huh?” Johnny asked, half sitting up and trying not to choke on his surprise.

 

“That’s why you wanted to come tonight, right?” Darcy asked, smiling down at him.

 

“Umm…”

 

“If it isn’t then I can-” she started to lift slightly off his lap and Johnny clamped his hands over her thighs to pull her back down. “Ohh,” she said softly, and she twitched over him, rocking for a moment before biting her lip and making herself fall still.

 

“Really?” he asked. “You’re cool with that?”

 

“I only really paid attention to about the first twenty minutes of that last episode. You’re hands have been distracting me and I’m getting pretty wet.”

 

Johnny knew his mouth was hanging open. Objectively he knew that. But he couldn’t feel it?

 

“I would love a sex break,” he said finally. “You wanna…here?”

 

Darcy pulled her glasses off, and stretched again to put them down next to the remote.

 

Johnny let one hand slide up her thigh, thumb rubbing in, so he could lift her skirt up. She hadn’t lied, the orange crotch of her panties was a little damp and dark. He pushed his thumb there and watched as Darcy’s mouth formed an ‘o’ and she rolled against his thumb, eyes fluttering shut.

 

“Can we, can we do this a little first,” she asked, breath gasping, bouncing against him on his lap where he was growing hard, cock twitching as she rubbed against it. “I love this part.”

 

“We can do pretty much anything you want,” Johnny said and twisted his hand so that she was pressing against his fingers, stroking herself there.

 

She bit a little cry behind her lips and then fell forward, bracing herself against the arm of the couch so she could lean down to bite and lick her way into his mouth. Johnny groaned and sucked the chocolate and buttery salt flavor from her tongue until she pulled away to moan, eyes squeezed shut.

 

“Will you finger me?” she breathed against his cheek.

 

“Yeah.” Johnny’s forehead bumped softly against her cheek as he nodded urgently, fingers fumbling against the edge of her sodden panties where they were sticking to her skin. “Yeah, absolutely.” He would be fucking _delighted_ to.

 

He was achingly hard now and Darcy wasn’t doing much more than bumping against him where he was tenting the sweatpants he’d worn. But she was slippery and warm inside of the wet cotton and she froze still and held her breath as he nudged first one and then another finger inside of her.

 

“Let me know if I get too warm,” he said, watching her cheeks flush and lips part as she rose slightly and sank down on his knuckles with a huff of breath. She squeezed around him and Johnny’s eyes crossed a little at the feeling.

 

“Warm is good,” she said, voice low and ragged. “Warm would be lovely.”

 

And she moaned and pressed down against his hand as he let himself heat up just a bit.

 

She came back for more kisses, and Johnny sat up with her, one arm wrapped around her waist to help her ride his hand. They trade nibbles and sucks and when Darcy started to pant and sigh in earnest, hands braced on his shoulders, he settled for licking long stripes up her throat.

 

“I’ve got- oh, fuck, i’m so close, Johnny. I’ve got condoms stashed in that thro-ohhhhhhh, oh god, oh shit. Throw pillow. Throw pillohhhahh ahh!”

 

Johnny stifled his grin, just barely, and watched Darcy’s breasts jump softly in front of his face as she arched back and came with a long squeal, muffled behind closed lips. She clenched and squirmed on his fingers as his thumb rubbed at her clit until she started to jump away.

 

“You still wanna?” he asked as she drew herself back to snuggle under his chin. “Too much?”

 

“Noooo,” she said into his neck. “I wanna. Definitely wanna. You care if I go grab my vibe?”

 

Johnny blinked. Shit. Who _was_ this girl?

 

“No, I’m cool with that,” Johnny said, trying not to growl.

 

She shuffled off his lap, leaving his hand sticky and wet, as she stumbled towards her bedroom.

 

“God, I’m totally dripping,” she called out to him. “Put the condom on and we’ll be ready.”

 

He let his head fall back on the arm of the couch in stunned delight for a moment before the words really registered. Put the damn condom on Storm, and you’ll be _ready for fucking Darcy Goddamn Lewis._ Who was probably his new official dream girl. He grabbed frantically at all the throw pillows until one crinkled promisingly.

 

He’d stripped out of his t-shirt and had his sweats shoved down his hips, the condom rolling down the head of his cock, when Darcy reappeared. She had a black and silver little curved device in one hand, a towel in the other, her striped stockings running up her legs, and was otherwise beautifully bare.

 

“Oh damn that looks delicious,” she said, staring at his hands around his cock.

 

Her hair was up in a pony tail and her breasts were hanging heavily, nipples perky in the cool apartment, and Johnny could see a slight sheen of wetness gleaming from between her legs.

 

“Know what you mean,” Johnny said, staring back.

 

She preened, and the pony tail swayed. “Thanks. Get out of those sweats, I need your spot.”

 

Johnny obeyed, maybe a little too fast since all the blood was south of his head, and almost fell over as Darcy shimmied up onto the couch, draping the towel over the arm and then settling herself on top, wedging the vibrator between her and the towel.

 

“Holy shit,” Johnny whispered as she spread her legs a little, ass in the air and ponytail swaying down her spine. A buzz started up and Darcy looked back at him, biting down on her lip.

 

“Saddle up Storm, I want you in me when I come this next time.”

 

Before he could think straight Johnny was pushing in, Darcy whimpering, and he could feel the soft vibration running through her. His fingers dug into the soft skin high on her ass as he swallowed heavily and tried not to lose control with slow and deep strokes.

 

“Next sex break,” Darcy panted, head sagging as she breathed deep, pacing herself with his thrusts. “I get to suck you off.”

 

Johnny looked up to the ceiling as if to thank the Great Pumpkin himself for this night, but then realized what he was missing seeing and looked directly down again.

 

“Only if we can be fair about it,” Johnny managed as he watched himself disappear into the prettiest, pinkest, pussy he’d ever seen.

 

Darcy giggled and then pressed back against him with a moan. Johnny was pretty sure this wasn’t what Sue meant when she said he’d find somebody someday to tame his wildness. But he had a feeling Darcy Lewis was going to prove herself the best candidate. She certainly felt like it.

 

“What a treat, huh?” she asked. Johnny bucked into her, jaw loose at the way she trembled around him, and nodded dumbly in agreement.


	27. 27. Ghosttaser - T for phoenix_173

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Remind me whose idea it was to bring a ouija board to game night?’ for phoenix_173  
> Darcy Lewis/Robbie Reyes

 

“Remind me whose idea it was to bring a ouija board to game night?” Darcy asked the little white planchette spun over the letters, zipping back and forth as if there were half a dozen hands on it wrestling for control.

 

“Yours,” several voices said at once.

 

“I told you it was a bad idea with me here,” Robbie said at her side and she wanted to erase the apology in his voice.

 

“Ouija boards are always a bad idea,” Jane said and Thor grimaced from behind her shoulder trying not to look as though he were hiding behind tiny Jane. Not that it would have worked.

 

“Especially Ouija boards found at flea markets,” Clint said.

 

The lights, already dim overhead to set the mood, flickered and then the bulbs snapped with loud cracks and they were left in the dark. More or less, because light was still pouring in from the city outside even at midnight, enough that Darcy could see the resigned frustration on Robbie’s face.

 

“Okay, okay,” Darcy said, getting up from her pillow on the floor. “Bad Idea Darcy is my new name. Lemme go get my smudge stick.”

 

“Bring me back one of your funny sweaters,” Natasha instructed, the least bothered by the planchette which was now vibrating on the top of the coffee table.

 

“They aren’t fu-….yeah okay,” Darcy said and she hurried down the hall to her room.

 

She dug through her dresser and then realized all her best sweaters were draped over one piece of furniture or another. She was deciding between one with black and white cat faces patterned in a M.C. Escher style, or a pale pink one heavy with iridescent sequins. She jumped at a soft knock on her door and spun to find Robbie leaning there, dark t-shirt sleeves rolled up on his arms like some kind of Danny Zuko dream man.

 

“Sorry,” he said, that apologetic half-smile sliding off his face as he looked down at the floor. “I’m gonna head out, it should stop once I’ve left.”

 

“What? No!” Darcy said. “It’s just a little paranormal activity, no big deal. I don’t want you to go. This whole thing was… a really poorly considered date night. But the point was kind of, you know, you being here.”

 

Robbie looked up from the floor, eyebrows raised. “Thought it was game night?”

 

Darcy’s mouth hung loose for a second. “Umm…yes? It- it’s…I planned game night for a date night,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

 

A little flash of a grin flickered over Robbie’s face before falling away. He stepped into her room and cocked his head at the two sweaters in her hands.

 

“I like the cat one,” he said.

 

Darcy looked down, was about to make a joke about…something, that she hadn’t expected him to be much for sequins or just anything to delay him leaving for the night. But the door to her bedroom banged shut, and Darcy jumped and made an embarrassingly squeaky sound of terror, and Robbie turned and pulled her behind him.

 

“Oh,” Jane said loudly from the down the hall. “Hey guys. It’s doing a weird thing! It keeps going over the same letters. What’s that… spelling Skis?”

 

“Issk?” Thor asked, voice bellowing and careful.

 

“It’s spelling kiss,” Clint shouted flatly. “Just keeps spelling ‘kiss.’ Wonder what it wants?”

 

Darcy sagged and covered her face with her hands.

 

“Are they…?” Robbie trailed off, staring at the door.

 

“Idiots,” Darcy said.

 

“Oh my,” Natasha said from suspiciously close to the door. “I can’t seem to get this door open.”

 

“Oh my god,” Darcy muttered.

 

Robbie turned and Darcy stalled in looking up to meet his eyes. But he was smiling. Well, for Robbie he was smiling, just a small curve to his mouth, more of a crinkle at his eyes than anything else.

 

“Should probably listen to the ghosts,” Robbie said, one shoulder shrugging gently as his hands curved around her waist. “Otherwise we’ll never make it out of here.”

 

“Extremely bossy but well meaning ghosts,” Darcy said, nodding absently, losing the urge to raise up to her tiptoes.

 

Robbie’s hands slid to her back and pulled her gently up to meet his lips as he ducked down. Darcy tried not to mind the way she purred against the first warm touch of his kiss. He didn’t seem to mind at least, only stepped closer, held her tighter, one hand drifting up to her neck, her shirt catching and rucking up with the touch. She thought he might have meant to be gentle but she was a little bossy and well meaning too and she took his face in her hands and answered his soft kiss with a strong, wet, pull of her lips. In moments Robbie had her lifted in his arms and he was licking his way into her mouth, groaning as she stroked her tongue along his.

 

“We could just stay in here,” Darcy suggested, pulling away to suck in a breath.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” he agreed, nodding and carrying her in quick steps to the bed. “Safer for the others.”

 

“Mmhmmmmmm,” Darcy hummed and then squirmed happily under the weight of Robbie, her hands on his shoulders and her legs wrapping around his waist as he pinned her to the bed.

 

They could hear Clint’s puzzled voice from the living room. “What’s it spelling now? Angb? Gban?”

 


	28. 28. Wintershock - E for phoenix_173

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 28\. ‘Was it just me or was I actually ________ last night?’
> 
> ‘I would say it was some next level role playing but yeah, I was definitely possessed too. And by _________.’ For phoenix_173 King arthur and Excalibur
> 
> Darcy Lewis/Bucky Barnes  
> this is nsfw!

 

 

Darcy groaned, rolling her neck and wincing as it cracked and popped. Stubble scratched against the bare skin of her belly and she tried to peel her eyes open but everything was one spectacular, crusty blur.

 

“You okay, angel?” Bucky mumbled from where his head was pillowed on her stomach.

 

“Was it just me or was I actually King Arthur last night?” Darcy asked. She dug the sand out of her eyes and rolled her head to see the jewel tone colors of her period accurate costume littered over the floor of her bedroom.

 

“I would say it was some next level role playing but yeah, I was definitely possessed too. And by Excalibur,” Bucky said crawling up her side, his hand rubbing soothing circles along her ribs, thumb stroking under her breast.

 

Darcy squinted up at him, eyes crossing as he leaned down to peck a kiss at the end of her nose.

 

“There was a text from Steve,” Bucky explained. “Spelled mead from Loki. Mostly a prank. Everyone’s alright.”

 

“Are you sure?” she asked. “Cause I distinctly remember ordering you to slay Clint last night.”

 

_

 

 _The night before_ …

 

“Reach for my candy purse once more, villain, and Excalibur will cut you down where you stand,” she growled, clamping her gloved hand over the archer’s and squeezing.

 

Bucky stood at her side, tense and ready for action, eyes scanning the room and warm hand firm in hers, waiting for instruction.

 

“Tony, I really need you to come back Miami tonight,” Steve said into his phone, Captain’s voice crisp under his cowl. “ _No_. No costume. Come as you. Bring a suit. We’re in the middle of a situation.”

 

It’d been his idea of a joke. Come as Captain America. Saved the time picking out a costume, and ‘ _Yes, Bucky, it does count._ ’ Now Steve wasn’t so sure if he was relieved to be comparatively clear headed, or jealous of the other’s thorough inanity.

 

“A king’s wealth should be spread amongst her people,” Clint said, tossing his head back, gold feather waving in his green cap.

 

“My sweet corn kernels are mine and mine alone, rogue,” Darcy said, chin high and proud, chest more than usually puffed out under her chainmail and tunic.

 

“Then why are they in my hand?” Clint asked, swinging the black velvet bag she’d brought to the party full of candy corn in front of her face with by the fingers of his free hand.

 

“Slay him,” Darcy said to Bucky who stepped forward, sleek, deadly and eager.

 

Steve jumped between the group, arms outstretched, sheild raised in front of Bucky the sword. “No! No one is slaying anyone. Robin Hood, give the candy back.”

 

“If someone doesn’t ask me to dance in the next three minutes, I will start breaking bones,” Natasha said from the middle of the room, hands on the hips of her voluminous pink skirt, tiara glittering under the disco ball.

 

_

 

“I’m confused,” Darcy said slowly.

 

Bucky was pressing long, wet kisses into her shoulder, fingers drawing gentle patterns over the top of her chest. She frowned and plucked at the silvery material of Bucky’s ‘sword’ costume. Why was she naked and Bucky was dressed? That didn’t seem fair.

 

“‘Wha’s confusing?” Bucky asked, tongue licking along the hollow of her collar bone. His hand started to smooth down the center of her chest dipping towards her stomach, and she parted her legs in invitation.

 

“Who’s sexual chemistry was working last night? Cause you got me off…but you’re dressed.” Darcy asked. “Like…do you think King Arthur got off on his sword cause that seems…risky, right?”

 

Bucky snorted and lifted his head up, kissing at her chin on his way. “Pretty sure that was just us, doll. Speaking of which, might be feelin’ some residual effects cause I’ve got the urge to sheathe this sword, finally.”

 

Darcy found herself caught between a giggling snort and a slow groan of pleasure as Bucky pressed two fingers up inside of her.

 

“S’good pun,” Darcy breathed as he pumped his hand lightly, thumb swirling around the edge of her clit. “Would be better if you were naked and on top of me.”

 

Bucky grinned. “You’re right. That would be better. Just give me a couple minutes. I like my sheath nice and wet and ready for me.”

 

Darcy’s hips bucked up against his hand as she pulled him down for a kiss. “Might not take a couple minutes,” she said.


	29. 29. Shieldshock - T for glynnisi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 29\. ‘You’re the cutest person at this party, but you look like you’re freezing. Want to borrow my cape?’ for glynnisi  
> Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers

 

 

“Oh wow,” Darcy said, freezing in place, unable to stop her jaw from dropping. Someone had put Bucky in fishnets and a perm. The eyeshadow…well he might have done that himself. She’d seen him done up for a mission. The lipstick however… “Hey, are you the one that stole my Femme Fatale lip stain out of my bag?”

 

That hadn’t been what she meant to ask. She meant to ask Bucky ‘Who did this to you?’ Or ‘What bet did you lose?’

 

“It was Tony,” Bucky said. And to be honest, that probably answered _all_ of her questions.

 

“You let him pick your costume?” She guessed.

 

“ _Steve_ let him pick his costume,” Bucky said, folding his arms over the skimpy black corset. “I was guilt tripped into it.”

 

Someone really needed to have a talk with Tony about abuse of emotional manipulation now that the team was all back together. But it wasn’t going to be Darcy because she couldn’t say she _hated_ the view of Bucky done up in black lingerie and drag.

 

“Wow,” she said. “Well, you’re definitely the most…stacked Frank-N-Furter I’ve ever seen.” And she’d been to quite a few midnight musical versions of the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

 

Bucky shifted in his booty shorts, dark smirk spreading across his lips. She shrugged, shame free.

 

“You look cozy,” he said, nodding at her fur cape and drapey silk skirts. “You some kind of queen?”

 

“I’m a spy,” she said. He squinted up at her beaded head piece and she let him puzzle on it. “Thor brought back the cape for me. I’m pretty sure he killed whatever it came from though…I try not to remind myself of that fact,” she said wincing. “So, wait…where’s Steve?”

 

“Hey Darcy.” Steve peeked his head out from around the dark, slanted archway Bucky had been lurking in that led to the terrace. Tony had really gone all out on the decorations and the whole community space on the top floor of the facility was full of rugged wood beams and hay bale benches and eerily dark nooks and crannies. One of which Steve was delicately stepping out of, clad in nothing but a tiny gold speedo, hair soft and falling into his face.

 

“Oh,” Darcy said, blinking at…all of the skin. “Oh. Oh that’s…”

 

“Excruciatingly embarrassing,” Steve suggested.

 

“Really clever,” Darcy finished. “Sorry. Just the whole…ideal man thing. Tony’s a bit of a dick.”

 

Steve’s cheeks turned pink. And then so did the top of his chest. How far did that go she wondered? His arms shifted over his chest trying to cover more space on his body than was physically likely. He only had two arms after all. She considered volunteering her own.

 

Tony was more than a bit of a dick. Dressing Steve up as Rocky, a mad scientist’s dream hunk, reeked of both his Howard issues, as well as his Steve issues. But she was a little grateful for those issues with this view in front of her. So _many_ muscles.

 

“Sorry,” she said, again, shaking her head. “You look…cold. Are you cold?”

 

“A little,” Steve said, shrugging.

 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Punk’s shy.”

 

“I don’t see you strutting your stuff for the party,” Steve muttered.

 

“You’re right,” Bucky said. “How ungracious of me. Keep the ideal man company for me, doll. Gonna make my rounds.” Then he swatted Steve, hard, right on the ass.

 

Steve growled under his breath.

 

“Here,” Darcy said, peeling off the velvet and fur cape she’d been wearing. She held it out to a dumbfounded Steve. “Put this on, you look miserable. And then we can go raid the buffet together.”

 

“No- no- I couldn’t- you don’t- that’s not-”

 

Darcy smiled at his stammers and watched as the blush on his cheeks spread farther down his chest.She smoothed down the sheer silks draping over her hips and gave the delicately beaded bra a subtle adjust. She caught Steve staring at her hands as she ran her fingers under the straps.

 

“I’m Mata Hari,” she explained. “Wrong shade of lipstick, but Bucky’s got my favorite on.”

 

Steve blinked. “I should give you this back,” he said. He’d put the cape on backwards.

 

“No, it doesn’t really go,” she said. “I only brought it in case everyone was doing like a low-key professional thing. But at least five of the HR department is in drag so…”

 

She turned to wander off and heard rustling and footsteps close behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see Steve had gotten the cape on right this time, and it was barely covering the tops of his thighs. He was also staring openly at her bare back.

 

“Feel better?” she asked.

 

“I feel like we should take turns wearing this,” he said. “You might need- you might get cold.”

 

“I guess you better stay close by then,” Darcy said. She passed by Bucky, Clint and Sam who all raised their eyebrows appreciatively until Steve appeared at her left, blocking them from view.

 

“Probably better,” he said, red faced.

 

“I’ll snuggle in if I get chilly,” she said, just to test the waters.

 

Steve swallowed, twice, before speaking. “Seems like a good plan.”

 

Happy Halloween, indeed, thought Darcy.


	30. 30. Wintershieldshock - G for Probablyunnecessary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘I’m really sorry I tried to decapitate you but this is why no one should plan a zombie flash mob.’ For probablyunnecessary  
> Darcy Lewis/Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers

 

 

Darcy stepped back and stared between the three Avengers, two towering over her and pushing the third behind them as he sank to his knees clutching at the metal arm she had just fried.

 

“Oops,” she said, and dropped the fire emergency axe she’d grabbed off the stairwell wall. It was meant as a gesture of peace but mostly she realized it left her defenseless against an extremely irate and gruesomely costumed Captain America and Falcon.

 

“You okay, Buck?” Captain America asked, voice snapping and eyes never straying from their glare fixed on Darcy’s face. A little bit of fake rot flaked off his firm jaw line as he clenched it.

 

“That should not have worked,” Bucky rasped, staggering up again, and trying to shake his arm cybernetic awake again.

 

“Umm…Tony Asgardian proofed my taser,” Darcy explained, hoping to be helpful. “In case of Loki…Or Thor if the good for nothing ever decides to show his face around here and explain to me why he thought it was okay to take the last of my triple chocolate gelato with him on his way off Earth.”

 

Falcon’s right eye blinked and the loose eyeball hanging out theleft socket swayed. “That taser would’ve come in handy in the early days,” he said.

 

“Sam,” Captain America growled but the Winter Soldier, _Bucky_ , just snorted and rolled his death white eyes.

 

“I really am sorry I tried to decapitate you,” Darcy said to him, standing on her tiptoes to try to meet his eyes around Captain America’s pronounced shoulders. “But this is why no one should plan a zombie flash mob.”

 

“Told you it was a dumb idea, birdbrain,” Bucky rasped at Sam.

 

“I would shut up while you’re an arm down,” Sam answered.

 

Captain America sighed heavily but Darcy caught the twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth.

 

“I’m pretty sure I can fix it,” Darcy said. All three men stared at her at once and Darcy pointed to the arm. “Tony showed me the blueprints and I can guess which circuitry the voltage hit. It won’t take too long to get you running again.”

 

“You’re Darcy,” Captain America said.

 

“I am.”

 

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” Darcy tried not read into the stunned expression on his face as he looked her up and down. “Steve,” he held out a strong hand covered in gore and fake stitches. Darcy winced as she shook it.

 

“I think you should keep it like this,” Sam said to Bucky. “Looks more true to zombie.”

 

“I’ll feel better when I know I can punch you when you deserve it,” Bucky said, flat and even.

 

“Well I gotta get downstairs to the mob,” Sam said with a shrug, heading back to the steps.

 

“Labs just this way,” Darcy said, nodding to the door. “You can come now or I can fix it later, up to you.”

 

She opened the door and tried not to listen to Bucky and Steve. No, that was a lie. She listened very carefully.

 

“You want me to come with you?” Steve asked as they followed her into the hall.

 

“Think you better, in case the arm glitches when she gets it running. Don’t want to hurt her, she’s a ripe tomato,” Bucky said, slightly under his breath.

 

“I don’t know what that means,” Darcy said glancing over her shoulder to see Steve blushing and Bucky watching her ass as she walked. “But I don’t like tomatoes.”

 

“Means you’re red hot, doll,” Bucky said, grinning and seemingly forgetting that his teeth were stained green.

 

Darcy swallowed a gag. “Then I should be some kind of cute pepper. Either way, your flirting is going to go over a lot better when you aren’t decomposing. I really fucking hate zombies.”

 

Bucky’s grin fell and Steve’s hand immediately went to cover his rotting jawline.

 

“Told Sam it was a dumb idea,” Bucky muttered grumpily.


	31. 31. Shieldshock - E for glynnisi and bval_1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 31\. 'Holy crap. Best Halloween ever!’ for glynnisi and bval-1  
> Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers  
> this is nsfw!

Darcy was perched at the edge of the couch, corset digging into her hips as she tried not to fidget, when the front door burst open and a tall man strode forward with long purposeful steps. They had scrapped the dark wig that looked more like a mop than hair, but the sight of Steve in a Regency accurate black waistcoat and white cravat, dark boots up to his knees, took Darcy’s breath away.

 

“Mr. Darcy,” she said, standing from the couch, “I had not expected to see you today. Is everything alright?”

 

Steve’s lips twitched a fraction before he wrestled away his smile and, eyes boring into hers, took three long hard steps across their living room area and fell to his knees before her. Her muslin fluttered around her bare legs and Darcy squeaked as large hands reached around her, grasping at the top of her thighs and squeezing tightly.

 

“Miss Bennet,” Steve said, voice rasping as he stared up from the floor at her with shockingly blue and achingly earnest eyes. “In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My passion will not be repressed. You must allow me to taste you!”

 

“Mr. Darcy,” she squealed, fighting back the delighted giggle as Steve nuzzled into her skirt, nose nudging and lips mouthing at her crotch through the thin layers of fabric. “Mr. Darcy this is inappropriate! I am a _lady_.”

 

“I would not dare to do anything to damage your reputation, Miss Bennet,” he said before pressing a long kiss over the lips of her sex through the dress, hands gathering fabric up into big fists. “I only beg of you permission to know the flavor of your ambrosia, the sound of your ecstatic pleasure.”

 

“Oh my god,” Darcy breathed. Steve had really been working on that script.

 

“Rest here, my Elizabeth,” Steve said, lifting Darcy up by her now bare thighs and setting her safely back down on the couch. He stepped between her legs and Darcy blushed at the way he looked at her bare skin, yellow cotton draped back over her thighs like a curtain.

 

“Close your eyes if you must, sweet Miss Bennet, but let me hear you,” he said and then he pushed forward, his shoulders spreading her thighs apart for him, thumbs parting her sex so he could press his tongue firm and flat against her as he licked up in a slow line.

 

“Mr. Darcy!” she said on a gasp, hips squirming against Steve’s face. “Mr. Darcy what is this?”

 

“My absolute pleasure,” Steve said in a deep rumble that was more his own than the lilting trill he’d adopted for her favorite literary hero. He stroked his mouth back and forth against her before flicking his tongue in quick little circles around her clit.

 

“Ohhhhh my god, baby- Mr. Darcy, yes!”

 

_

 

“Rose,” he said, warning…or maybe nervous. “You’re not supposed to be moving while I draw you.”

 

“Your french girls don’t move now and then?” she asked, knee lifting up, hand sliding down her waist.

 

Steve watched her little fingers dip between her legs, petting softly at the skin he’d left pink and swollen. The blue heart shaped stone heaved gently on her chest as she blinked at him through heavy, satisfied eyes.

 

“Not while I’m drawing them,” he said, watching her rub over herself with the flat of her palm. She stretched her neck and he watched her sigh as she dipped her middle finger inside of herself. “This all part of your plan?”

 

“I’m improvising,” she said, grinning and then mewling softly. He could hear the wet sucking sound of her fingering herself, lazy and shallow as the heel of her hand swirled over her clit.

 

“I’m about to draw a smiley face on this portrait and come join you in that,” he said.

 

“Noooo,” she said, head leaning back onto the pillows, finger pumping quicker. “If you’re good, and you just watch, I have a special idea for what’s next.”

 

The charcoal pencil in his hand cracked and Steve palmed himself once through the wool pants Darcy’d found for him, before going back to his drawing. He liked this new position better, anyway.

 

_

 

Darcy had always thought it seemed _really_ foggy in that car sex scene in Titanic. But Tony had a lot of small, sporty cars and not many with leg room. Still, she and Steve made do, squeezing into the back seat of an old Lincoln from the sixties. But with her head against the door handle and Steve’s feet braced down under the front passenger seat, there wasn’t much room to maneuver.

 

Steve was sucking a bruise into her neck, his hips rocking light and easy against her as her nails dug the same path down his back they had a moment ago. Darcy moaned and whimpered and pleaded and bucked beneath Steve but he just held onto the little safety handle above the door and continued in the same mild, crawling rhythm inside her.

 

She’d been at the edge of an orgasm for what felt like the past twenty minutes. The windows were _plenty_ foggy.

 

“Steve,” she pleaded.

 

“Jack,” he said, pulling off the sore skin of her neck.

 

“ _Steve_ ,” she said again and he looked her in the eye. “Baby, you gotta…I _need_ …”

 

“You want me to pick it up a bit?” he asked, smile growing.

 

“Yes, yes, I- Oh fuck, Steve, yes!”

 

The car squeaked on it’s axels as Steve _finally_ bucked in earnest inside her as she squeezed her thighs around his hips and tried to pull him tighter against her.

 

_

 

“I’m not sure…I dunno if I get this one, Darce,” Steve said, adjusting the white rabbit ears on his head. He snapped the red suspenders on his chest and frowned at his polka dot bow tie.

 

“I just thought it’d be an excuse for us to fuck like rabbits,” Darcy answered from behind the bathroom door. “Heh. Get it?”

 

Steve raised an eyebrow at himself in the mirror. He really loved this girl. Clearly.

 

The door to the bathroom opened and reflected in the mirror Steve saw the most dangerous silhouette of his life. Darcy was curling through the doorway, red wig pooling over her shoulder like liquid, blue eye shadow glittering on sleepy eyes. But that dress. It defied physics, clinging to every explicit inch of her, rising up the front of her body to her breasts, both lifting them and leaving them near to spilling out over the sequined cups. The blue eyeshadow shrank as Darcy’s eyes widened.

 

“Heyyyy now,” she said, hands raised in purple gloves as she backed up a step in the doorway. “You can’t rip this dress okay? I wasn’t even sure it would fit and I _like_ it, alright?”

 

“But honey, I love it,” Steve growled.

 

“Nooo, baby, that is not how rabbits move! You are stalking me like pre-heyyyy!!!”

 

Steve did rip the dress. He felt very, very, very sorry about it. Really, he did. He would _absolutely_ be buying her a new one. Although he couldn’t guarantee the next one wouldn’t end in the same fate.

 

“This how you were thinking it would go?” he panted in her ear. She’d managed to rip the white shirt off him before he’d had her pined to the bed, his front stretched over her back, arms banded around her waist and hips as he pounded into her from behind, red skirt torn and pushed to one side.

 

“This is,” Darcy gasped hard as Steve’s fingers stroked across the lips of her sex, spreading her for him to touch and pet. “This is roughly how I think they do it…you know, rabbits.”

 

“Yeah, got the joke the first time,” he said, biting his grinning teeth into her shoulder as Darcy groaned and squeezed around him.

 

_

 

“It’s just,” she giggled, and wrapped a belt around the purple bed sheet she’d fashioned into a ‘grecian’ dress. “It’s just, I really think you could do it.”

 

“You mean it has nothing to do with you wanting to see me in this little leather get up?” Steve asked, holding out his hands as if to better demonstrate to her exactly how short the pleated skirt was.

 

“Hercules, hercules, hercules!” she chanted gaily, clapping her hands. “Oh! Wait! I want to take a picture for Bucky, hang on.”

 

He sighed and rolled his eyes and then winced at the flash of her camera phone.

 

“So cute,” she cooed at the screen of your phone. “You should wear headbands more often.”

 

“You should wear sheets,” he answered before scooping her up in his arms.

 

“Yesss!” Darcy grinned and tossed her phone onto the bed. “Okay, so just like, lift me- OH MY GOD YOU’RE DOING IT! We couldn’t count to three or something?!”

 

Steve looked up, smiling at the view of Darcy’s bottom squirming inside of her dress right over his head. “Light as a feather, doll,” he said. “But you might not want to wiggle too much. You’re sheets are a little silky.”

 

“Steve! Do you realize what this means?” she asked, craning her neck to look down at him, the end of her pony tail tickling against his nose.

 

“I can help you reach the top shelf?”

 

“No. Yes, though, but no. We should be having standing sex like waaaay more often.”

 

Steve drew her back down to hold against his chest as his brow furrowed. “You got some kind of reference material for that?”

 

“Course I do, laptop’s over there…”

 

_

 

Leia’s slave girl outfit had lasted about as long as her Jessica Rabbit dress. The braids were holding up okay, especially considering they’d landed themselves in the shower, steam fogging the glass doors and the air around them. Darcy leaned forward to kiss at Steve’s cheek as he thrust in long, slow strokes inside of her.

 

“I love you,” she said, brushing a thumb over his jaw.

 

Steve beamed back at her, nestling his hips against hers. He kissed her, a deep filthy kiss that left her moaning and squirming against him before he pulled away.

 

“I know,” he said, smirking, and she burst into giggles.

 

_

 

“Holy crap!” Darcy said, falling back on the mattress, skin dewy and chest heaving. “Best Halloween ever.”

 

He was inclined to agree. But he pulled the Beast mask off his head first. Then he untied Darcy out of her golden ‘princess corset.’ She found the rabbit ears and the grecian belt inside the sheets and kicked them off the foot of the bed before curling up against his side.

 

“So.” Steve kissed the crown of Darcy’s head, fingering the ends of her braid between his thumb and forefinger. “What costume did you decide on?”

 

“Hmmm,” she squirmed closer to him, one leg curving over his hip as she rubbed her face against his chest. “I dunno if I can wear any of them again without spending the day thinking about you ripping them off of me.”

 

“Wasn’t that the idea?” he asked, grinning.

 

“Well, yes…” she shrugged and yawned long and noisy, her jaw cracking quietly with the stretch. “But the reality was even better than I expected.”

 

He kissed her forehead for that.

 

“I am having another idea,” she said slowly.

 

“Course you are,” he said, squeezing her bottom.

 

_

 

“What the fuck?” Tony asked, jaw slipping below the bushy black mustache as he stared down the hall at Darcy and Steve’s approach.

 

Darcy wasn’t sure if the hair flip of that silky red wig was intentional on Steve’s part, but it was extremely well executed either way.

 

“Is he supposed to be-?” Steve started, whispering to her out the corner of his neutrally pink stained lips.

 

“Nikola Tesla,” Darcy whispered back. “Don’t tell him he looks like his dad.”

 

“I _repeat_ ,” Tony said. “What the fuck?

 

“Steve and I wanted to be a power couple for Halloween this year,” Darcy said, shrugging in her little pinstripe suit. She wiggled her false goatee at Tony and winked behind the blue tinted glasses. “We picked our favorite.”

 

“Don’t think you can flatter me out of my shock and outrage you pint sized genius,” Tony said, point a rude finger in her face before rounding on Steve. “And _you_. What would America say if they could see you like…this?” He gestured head to toe at Steve’s perfectly tailored white pant suit and heels.

 

“That I looked like an exquisitely competent and professional example of grace and deadly efficiency,” Steve said smoothly, turning and drawing his shoulders back.

 

“Shiiiiiiit,” Tony whispered, eyes dilating slightly.

 

“Oh hey, there you are. You look so cute!” Pepper said, coming down the hall toward them from the other end. “Steve, how are the Louboutins working out for you?”

 

“Well I wouldn’t wear them out on the field,” Steve said with a shrug. “But they do make me feel more confident.”

 

“Isn’t it great?” Pepper said, grinning. “Tony, what is with your face right now?”

 

“Don’t think I don’t know what kind of hinky shit you get up to in those costumes!” Tony snapped as Darcy and Steve continued past him. “You owe me a new Lincoln.”

 

Darcy rose up on her tip toes and still needed Steve to lift her up to his mouth for a kiss now that he’d added an extra few inches.

 

“Stop it!” Tony whined from behind them. “So weird.”

 

“You love it,” Pepper said.


	32. 17. Tasertorch - M for cutie_bug

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 17\. 'Just stay here where it's safe, I'll be right back.'
> 
> 'Are you insane?! Have you never seen a zombie movie before?!' tasertorch for cutie-bug
> 
> Darcy Lewis/Johnny Storm

 

 

“Just stay here where it’s safe, I’ll be right back.” She’d meant it as a joke, honestly. But Johnny finally unfroze from his spot against the wall where he’d been impersonating a statue ever since they’d heard the long groan coming from the hallway.

 

“Are you insane?! Have you never seen a zombie movie before?!” Johnny rushed across the room to grab at her elbow, his touch too hot at first. She flinched and he pulled away. “Sorry, sorry. Just…just don’t go out there. We should lock the door and- and stay in here.”

 

His eyes were darting nervously between her and the cracked hall door.

 

“Whoaaaa Storm, calm down,” Darcy said, palms raised and approaching Johnny like a skittish horse. “I seriously doubt that a zombie made it inside of the avengers complex.”

 

“Darcy,” he said, hands cupping her elbows as he looked down into her face with an expression so sincere and genuinely concerned he reminded her suddenly and vividly of _Steve_ of all people. “We’re in a research and development wing of a privately owned militarized base on Halloween. That’s exactly where a zombie would turn up.”

 

Uh oh, Darcy thought as she felt a chill run down her spine as another, longer groan sounded from the hallway, barely closer than the first. Johnny had a point. The labs were mostly shut down for the night, the lighting was on low power. Was the moon full? The moon was probably full. At least she and Johnny hadn’t been having sex on a desk or something cliche like that. If they had, Johnny probably already would’ve been bit- No. No, this was _not_ a zombie.

 

“I’m sure it’s just someone having a scientific failure melt down,” Darcy said, sounding not very sure at all. “They just need their comfort blankie and a mild sedative.”

 

“If it’s eyes are bloodshot-“

 

“It’s not a zombie, Johnny,” Darcy snapped. She pulled away and stomped to the door, and leaning her head out.

 

There was a figure shuffling in her direction hair wild, backlit by a brightly lit lab farther down the hall.

 

“Heyyyy,” Darcy said, trying not to squeak and mostly failing at it. “You doin’…okay? You need me to get your…”

 

The figure groaned and lifted it’s hanging head, one arm in a rumpled sleeve stretching out to her, fingers curled. Darcy whimpered and jumped as Johnny wrapped his arms around her waist.

 

“Oh _shit_ ,” Johnny whispered in her ear as the slow moving man winced, passing under a light, and they could both see the red eyes and the gaping maw of a snarled mouth.

 

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” Darcy whined, and Johnny pulled her backwards, their feet tripping over each other, and slammed the door shut.

 

“Lock it!” he shouted.

 

“We shouldn’t box ourselves in, isn’t that a rule?” Darcy asked, voice high. But she locked the door anyway. “Oh my god, this isn’t fair! We haven’t even had sex yet!”

 

She turned back to Johnny and found him paused, a bench lifted in his arms, presumably to barricade the door. His head cocked to the side as he asked in a hopeful tone, “Were we going to?”

 

“Not tonight!” she said frantically. “But like…I dunno, in a week or so?”

 

“I was gonna ask you out,” Johnny said, grinning.

 

“I know you were, you doofus,” Darcy said, shouting over the sound of the groaning in the hall. “You lack subtlety. Except you won’t get to now, because one of us is gonna be a zombie and then the other one will have a tragic backstory for the apocalypse and then get to sex other tragic people up.”

 

He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t like that plan. Let me put this in front of the- Ahhh! Shit!”

 

The doorknob began to rattle and Johnny dropped the bench to the floor with a heavy clatter, reaching out to pull Darcy behind him. She had to stand on her tiptoes to see over his shoulder. A face appeared in the window next to the door, pressing itself against the glass so that it’s breath fogged over the lines of the goatee around it’s mouth.

 

“Oh nooo,” Johnny breathed.

 

“It’s Tony,” Darcy said. “Oh shiiiit, the first zombie is Iron Man. Society is so dead.”

 

“But…but this doesn’t fit any of the tropes,” Johnny whined.

 

“So before we die,” Darcy said as the doorknob rattled with more urgency and Tony’s brainless face vanished from the window. “Just for the record, I want to say that I was totally imagining you’d be really good in bed.” There was beeping coming from the door, a slow purposeful countdown as Zombie Tony punched in the override code. Darcy drove towards full and embarrassing honesty by adding, “Like best ever, ruins me for everybody else sex.”

 

“I _would_ have been that good,” Johnny said, half delighted, half defensive. “Oh wait! I have an idea! Darcy, I am going to ruin you for everybody else with my sex, just stand back.”

 

Darcy jumped back, partly because Johnny told her to, but partly because Zombie Tony had gotten the door open finally and she needed to hide or find a bludgeoning tool or something. But Johnny lit up into hot flames all at once and Zombie Tony screeched indignantly and reared back.

 

“I will set you on fire,” Johnny yelled, advancing. “Don’t think I won’t! You were always a dick to me!”

 

“Oh wow, why didn’t I think of this?” Darcy said aloud. “Johnny, why are you scared of zombies? You are literally the human answer to that problem.”

 

“Yeah,” Johnny said, shrugging and glancing back at Darcy as he walked forward, urging Zombie Tony out of the room. “But like, what if one just snuck up and bit me, like when we were having sex or from behind a corner or something?”

 

She shrugged and nodded. She’d allow it. She’d considered it as a possibility earlier, after all.

 

“What the fuck is going on here?”

 

Beyond the bright burn of Johnny’s flames, Pepper Potts stood in the hallway, holding a smoothie.

 

“Pepper no!” Darcy screamed. “He’s a zombie!!”

 

Pepper blinked and Tony shuffled close to her, hiding behind her shoulder and shrinking down to protect himself from Johnny.

 

“Well seventy-eight hours straight of science does that to him,” Pepper said. “Cool _down_ , Johnny.”

 

Johnny’s flames went out immediately at Pepper’s tone, leaving him shirtless and in his fire resistant pants.

 

Tony grumbled incoherently from behind Pepper and she sighed, turning and popping the straw of the smoothie directly into his mouth.

 

“Oh,” Darcy said, nodding, and putting down the pressurized steel pipe she’d grabbed earlier. “Oh. Okay. Yeah. That makes…more sense.”

 

“Darcy, I think it’s time for you to take a break yourself,” Pepper said, looking Darcy up and down skeptically. “I’ll send someone up to watch the data.”

 

“Yeah. That’s…that sounds good,” Darcy agreed. She grabbed Johnny’s arm and pulled him out of the lab after her. “Sorry, Tony,” she said, leaning around Pepper to wave at her boss. He shrunk back and hissed through his teeth at her, green smoothie bubbling up through the cracks. Darcy shuddered and hurried away to the elevators.

 

Her skin was buzzing and her heart was still pounding and Johnny was leaning into her, nuzzling at the top of her head and she was pretty sure they were headed to her floor anyway.

 

“How do you feel about moving our sex time table up a week?” Darcy asked.

 

“Extremely pro,” Johnny said, before crowding her into the corner of the elevator.

 

“Wait for my apartment, dude,” Darcy said as Johnny started petting her over her shirt and the crotch of her leggings.

 

“Right, right, sorry,” Johnny said, putting his hands on her ass to squeeze instead. “For the record, since we aren’t dying, I figured you’d ruin me for everyone else too.”

 

“Oh I _absolutely_ will, Storm. I will destroy you.”

 

She pulled him down to kiss her, hands groping over his shoulders, and five minutes later FRIDAY had to ask them to leave the elevator so that it could move on to other floors.


	33. 22. Winteshock - G for ibelieveinturtles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 22.’Why does our apartment look like a dungeon?’'Bad dungeon or like…sexy dungeon?’ wintershock for ibelieveinturtles
> 
> Darcy Lewis/Bucky Barnes

“Oh dear,” Darcy murmured as the motion sensitive plastic ghoul cackled down the barrel of Bucky’s gun.

 

Bucky scoffed and holstered his gun, batting irritably at some low hanging sticky cobwebs.

 

“Why does our apartment look like a dungeon?” Bucky asked her, swinging their duffel of vacation luggage down to the floor. (It was mostly a collection of clothing and swimsuits Darcy had barely gotten the chance to wear since Bucky was full of compelling arguments for staying in bed together…naked in the sunny beach bungalow.)

 

“Bad dungeon or like…sexy dungeon?”

 

The gun was out again, this time pointed at a gleeful Tony at the end of the now dark and gloomy hall. Darcy soothed her hand down Bucky’s spine while Tony just rolled his eyes.

 

“I wanna go back on vacation,” Bucky grumbled, holstering his gun again and ignoring Tony in favor of pouting down at his…his _wife_. Just thinking it put a little bit of a smile back on his face.

 

“I’m not sure the _brand_ of the dungeon matters at the moment, Tony,” Darcy said with a sigh. “What happened to our apartment? _Did you throw a party in here_?”

 

Tony gasped and rested his hand against his chest in feigned offense. “Don’t be…I mean there was like a _little_ gathering but no, that was before I brought in the decorations. Halloween is only a week away and I figured with getting married and then the honeymoon…you wouldn’t get the chance.”

 

“To turn our home into a horror movie?” Bucky asked, voice near a growl. The ghoul on the wall next to Bucky started cackling again and Darcy watched he reached over and plucked a cord free from inside the ghouls’s shredded cape. The hall was quiet.

 

“You really went…all out,” Darcy said to Tony, hoping to sound more diplomatic.

 

“An effort that was apparently wasted,” Tony said, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

Darcy elbowed Bucky lightly in the side and glanced out the corner of her eyes, trying to pass along a message of ‘ _be nice_ ’ through the look.

 

Bucky huffed, once, and said in a tone so flat you have balanced a pin on it, “It’s great.”

 

Darcy groaned softly and Tony took a long look around their living room before shrugging and meeting them by the door.

 

“Alright,” he said. “I see how it is. I _was_ gonna tell you where I hid all the jump scare bots but now I’m just gonna leave it booby-trapped.”

 

“Tony,” Darcy tried but he was out the door.

 

“I’ll find all the rubber spiders, doll,” Bucky said, smiling.

 

“Just don’t shoot them, kay Buck?” she said, smirking back at him with a raised eyebrow.

 

He grumbled, picked up their bag from where he’d dropped it, and trooped ahead of her into the apartment. She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and sent off a quick text to Tony.

 

_Aside from the breaking and entering, it DOES look awesome._

 

She didn’t expect a response from the older man. He’d probably gone off to huff and puff at Rhodey. But hopefully it would keep him from detonating any traps he might have laid in the apartment.

 

“Daaaarce,” Bucky called from bedroom, a frustrated crack in his voice.

 

“Shit,” she muttered to herself. Maybe she’d sent an olive branch too soon. She hurried through the living space, past a new coffin shaped dining table and a maze of cobwebs.

 

She stopped in the door to the bedroom, the smell of licorice and beeswax in the air and a glow of candlelight coming from the bathroom. They had a new four poster bed, huge enough that Darcy was certain she could toss and turn to her hearts content without ever rustling Bucky from his heavy sleeps. It was decked with heavy, lush curtains and pillows and a comforter that looked like they’d been made out of clouds.

 

“I’m gonna have to apologize,” Bucky said, in their bathroom doorway, grimacing. “He put in a jacuzzi tub.”

 

Darcy blinked at that announcement. “Does it work?”

 

Bucky grinned. “Feeling road weary? We could try it out.”

 

“Should probably at least check it for booby traps before you apologize,” Darcy said, shrugging out of her hoodie and moving to unzip her jeans.

 

“Probably shoots out slime,” Bucky agreed, shucking off his own pants before walking deeper into the candlelight of the bathroom. Darcy followed behind, giggling and leaving a trail of clothing in her wake.


	34. 25. Taserbones - E for zephrbabe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 25\. ‘That is a fantastic _______ costume! I’ve always had a thing for ________.’ Taserbones for zephrbabe  
> Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow  
> this is nsfw!

 

 

“That’s a decent Batman costume.”

 

Darcy paused as she lifted her drink off the bar. It wasn’t like she didn’t know it was a good costume. She had it custom made. The body armor was _legit_. It’s just that she didn’t expect the compliment to come from Mr. Stone-Faced Bartender who was too cool to dress up on Halloween night. Unless his costume _was_ douchebag bartender who tipped himself without asking and was probably too old to be still working a bar full of grad students.

 

He was sinfully hot though. Emphasis on the sin.

 

“I’ve always had a thing for Batman,” he added, looking at the armor plates over her breasts a little too long.

 

“Congratulations on your open bisexuality,” Darcy said. Shouted really, cause the bar was packed and there were about five other girls in skimpier outfits trying to get his attention. She figured a little insinuation that he was anything other than hetero ought to scare him off.

 

He just smiled, sharp lines down his cheeks, eyes fixed on her face. “Thanks,” he said, easy as can be.

 

It was at that point that Darcy realized she was a little bit screwed.

 

_

 

More than a little bit.

 

She was very well screwed. _Very well_.

 

She was on her tiptoes, bent over the desk in the tiny office, nails scratching grooves into the cheap finish as he pressed from behind with short, urgent nudges of his cock into her aching flesh.

 

“Ohhhh fuck,” Darcy hissed into her arm. “Ohhh my god. Shit. Is the door locked?”

 

As it turned out, custom armor costuming wasn’t super conducive to quickies in bars and Brock (of course his name was Brock because what else were you named when you looked like the high school quarterback turned ex-con turned barback) had been pretty excited to unbuckle her out of every piece of padding and plating. But it’d left her in her bra and panties and she hadn’t argued when he’d taken those off either cause his callouses felt amazing on her bare skin and he’d gone down on her _nearly_ to cumming once she was out of them.

 

“S’locked,” he grunted. He pulled back until just the tip was inside, and his hands came around to cup her hips and keep her from knocking into the desk with the first hard thrust.

 

Darcy howled at the stretch and ache that followed, spreading through her. The cry layered over the crowd out in the bar singing along to Thriller.

 

“Christ that’s good,” he muttered behind her, his fingers squeezing on her skin

 

There was a brush of t-shirt at her back, and he gripped tighter on her hips, lifting slightly.

 

Darcy gasped. “I don’t stretch that far,” she said, trying to wiggle her way out of his hold.

 

“I got you,” he answered, and she bit down on her arm, burying a squeal, as her feet left the floor and he folded over her back, body warm and pushing her breasts down into the cool old wood.

 

Her lungs felt compressed under the weight of him, breaths tight as he rocked in small circles, her toes curling in the air, body still so close to the edge after he’d treated her with lips and tongue. He shuffled closer until her back was arching up and then with every small push and pull he was stroking at a spot that had stars blooming behind her eyes and dragging along her entrance.

 

“Holy fucking cocking moves Batman,” Darcy managed as he sped up slightly, balls whapping softly at her clit until her mouth was hanging open against the desk and she thought she might come _embarrasingly_ fast.

 

Brock just chuckled behind her ear and the rasp sent shivers down her spine. “My shift ended, honey. We can do this till closing.”

 

She mouthed at the desk, nodding weakly. There wasn’t enough pressure, enough bite. Not yet. She was sure he had that in him. But she didn’t want it over. Not yet.

 

“I’m so free,” she ground out and then squirmed as he nipped his way down her spine, teeth sharp. He backed out again to torment her with rapid shallow thrusts until her palms were wet and sliding on the desktop and she was begging for more.

**Author's Note:**

> leave me some sugar!


End file.
